#werewolf rhett

[lewmagoo]

the wolf ; series masterlist

↬ the life and love of two mates, documented in five parts

↬ listen to the spotify playlist here

series status: complete

part one: i smile at the moon

part two: a curse i cannot lift

part three: i bleed like a wolf

part four: the killing moon

part five: it's happening again

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

not hungry anymore | werewolf!rhett x oc

Summary: Rhett and Tessa, two young pups playing in the fields, quickly realize that it's time to grow up. Their pack is dying, some even say it's cursed, and the only saviors anyone can see...are them. (wc: 4781)

Warnings: made-up werewolf lore (part of the echo universe), violence, blood, injury description, trevor tillerson is a creep, time skip, and a cliffhanger

✎……to round out falltober, the spookiest of all, a werewolf au! i have more of this au planned, so if you would like to see more please let me know!

✎……MAIN MASTERLIST || FALLTOBER MASTERLIST

Tessa chased him through the wide, open fields that made up the Abbott land. Her four pawed feet thumped into the ground, large claws digging into the earth — kicking up dust in the dry season. A laugh echoed in her mind as she banked sharply to the left in her pursuit.

Rhett was faster, though. His big, wolf face turned to look at her over his shoulder as he ran. Dark brown coat covered in blades of grass and dirt stains. Eyes sparkling golden in the fading light. She could hear his returning cackle like her own thoughts as he evaded her.

“Com’on, Tess! Keep up!” he called. 

Her breathing quickened as she tried to pump her legs harder. “M’tryin’! Y’know m’small!”

He just laughed again. His head thrown back as he howled and kept on galloping.

“Oh, m’gonna get you,” Tessa grumbled to herself, knowing that Rhett could hear her in his own mind.

She didn’t feel tired, not yet. That would take hours upon hours of running through the Wyoming fields and wild country men feared to venture into. But she could only go so fast and Rhett was nearly a head taller than her — in both wolf and human form. There was no way she would ever catch him, trailing him like this. So she stopped and skidded to a halt, leaving overturned dirt in her wake. Rhett kept on going. They were running along the edge of the forest that skirted the west pasture. They didn’t usually go here. The east pasture having the creek to roll and splash in, and the north having more dense forest to get lost in. 

A snort escaped her as a plan formed. Tessa trotted into the woods, the shade beneath the pines darkened as the sun tipped under the horizon. But it gave her the perfect cover as she ran west after Rhett. 

“Tess? Where’d you go?” Rhett’s question appeared in her mind. 

She could hear his giant paws stamping in the earth as he turned to look for her. But, she didn’t respond. Kept every thought and word silent as she ran through the trees. 

“Oh, com’on, tha’s not funny,” he said. 

Her lips pulled back in a snarling grin, showing sharp canines and pink gums. Suddenly she saw him, standing out in the open, turning in circles as he searched for her. Ears perked, listening. His head jerked at the sound of her breaking through the brush. There was no time to waste. Tessa charged into a sprint and broke the treeline. Head ducked down and shoulder turned, she slammed into Rhett’s unsuspecting side. He let out a surprised yelp as they tumbled to the ground together.

They rolled once, twice, and then Rhett was flat on his back — Tessa standing triumphant over him. 

“Ha! Pinned ya!” 

He huffed. “Only ‘cause ya scared me.” 

“Still counts,” she replied.

Rhett glared. Then suddenly two paws were kicked into her belly. All the air got knocked out of her lungs as she fell to the side, Rhett quickly rolling over to pin her to the ground. 

“Pinned ya,” he mocked. 

Even in his wolf face, she could see his smirk. Smug and victorious. She knew she would never get out of this the way he did. Rhett was not only bigger but stronger than her too. She had only been able to turn into a wolf for a few months, but still, she had learned tactics in order to get away from enemies even twice or three times her size. She bit his leg. Not hard enough to break skin, just play, but he still yowled and rolled off of her. 

“Ow! Tess, cut it out! Cut it out!” Through his protests, he was laughing. 

He returned her bite with one of his own, nibbling at her side and making her giggle and howl. And they continued to roll around in the long grass, laughing and biting and tussling. A soft, warm breeze blew through the fields. The sleeping sun turned the clouded sky into brilliant shades of pink and purple. Crickets began their chorus and an owl hooted as its hunt began. Two young wolves forgetting the world for a moment. 

“Well, what do we have here?” a new voice asked, their low, whispering voice cold as ice in their minds. 

Rhett and Tessa instantly sat up, dust settling around them as they searched for the source. Their hackles stood on end, the skin beneath cold and tingling despite the heat. It had to be another wolf, the voice wasn’t spoken aloud. And only wolves could talk to each other through their own thoughts. But the source wasn’t hard to find. 

Two larger wolves were approaching them slowly from the west. Each of them with coats a dirty blond and bigger than even Rhett. Nearly fully grown. Their eyes shown bright as stars in the coming darkness, white, devoid of all color. Omegas. Tessa’s heart sank into her stomach, anchored down by a fear garnered from scary stories told around bonfires. 

“Looks like new toys, t’me,” a different voice said, one of the wolves’ lips pulling back in a snarl. 

Rhett and Tessa scrambled to their feet. Tessa huddled close to Rhett’s side, ears pinned to her head as she stared down the approaching wolves. Unable to look at anything else. Out of the corner of her eye, Rhett’s ears remained upright. Pricked for any noise. She wondered if he was forcing them to be that way to appear braver than he was. 

“Tillersons,” Rhett spoke low, hoping only Tessa would be able to hear him. 

But he was wrong. “Tha’s right, kid. You’ve earned y’rself a prize.” 

“What’d he win?” 

“A warning.” One wolf stepped forward, the smaller of the two staying behind, circling the younger wolves with his head hung low. “Gettin’ too close to our land, kids. If we find ya out here again, m’gonna —”

“This ain’t your land,” Rhett spoke up, head swiveling to keep up with the stalking Tillerson wolf. “We c’n be here.”

“Rhett,” Tessa hissed, coming in closer to his side with her tail tucked between her legs — unable to hide the terror flooding her veins.

“By the moon, Billy, get over here!” the circling wolf called to the other, then he looked back with a wicked grin. “We got ourselves the spare son himself.” 

“Who’s the other one?” Billy asked as he stepped closer. 

“Abernathy by that fur.”

Tessa glanced back at her wolf body, at her creamy-white coat now dulled with dust. A trait inherited from her father, passed from Abernathy to Abernathy for generations — distinct to anyone who knew better. Billy got closer, sniffed at Tessa as she cowered into Rhett’s side. She wanted to just turn tail and run. Never look back and never go to the west pasture again. But she wouldn’t dare leave Rhett behind, knowing he would stay and fight if he had to. 

Anything to prove himself. 

“Hey!” Rhett snapped his teeth at Billy’s snout, who backed off with a surprised wail. “Stay away from her!”

The other wolf laughed and jeered. “She’a bit of a soft spot for ya? Huh, Spare?” 

“Quit callin’ me that,” Rhett growled, front paws widening like he was going to pounce. 

“She’s a pretty lil’ thing. Maybe, if ya don’come near our land again, I’won’t jus’take’er for myself.”

Tessa could feel her legs shaking as she backed away from the wolf’s pale hungry gaze. Feeling only slightly comforted when Rhett put himself between them. 

“We’re not on your land,” Rhett answered, low and growling. 

“Close enough!” the wolf shouted, making them both flinch at the harsh sound only in their minds. “Y’re old enough t’turn, y’re old enough t’know our history. Honestly, we should jus’kill ya righ’now. One less Abernathy — one less Abbott to worry about.”

“Trevor,” Billy warned — but it appeared his brother didn’t want to listen. 

“One less thing standin’ in our way of runnin’ Waya Pack.”

Trevor stalked closer. Hackles raised, ears back, teeth bared to show his red gums. The air was dry and hot, the light of day gone. Replaced with the vigilant eye of the moon who seemed content to watch how this played out. Silence fell upon the world as a blanket, even the chirping of crickets had ceased in the presence of the oncoming violence. Tessa’s heart pounded in her chest, she could hear her own blood flowing in her ears, as she stared wide-eyed at the Tillerson wolf ready to kill her. Just for her name. Just for their history she barely understood. 

“Tess, run!”

Rhett swept at Trevor with his great paw. Slashing him across the face with his claws. Trevor yelped, red blood instantly flowing from the cuts and into his snarling face. 

She didn’t have to think twice. Taking off in the opposite direction, she didn’t even look back. Her legs pumped hard with real and present danger at her heels. Her heart raced, dry air like a thousand needles in her lungs. Why didn’t she remember that the Abbott’s west pasture abutted Tillerson land? Why did she let Rhett convince her to come out there in the first place? They both knew better than to go messing with a Tillerson. That werewolf family that wanted them dead. That walked around with no alpha to lead them all because their patriarch didn’t think Rhett’s father was cut out for the job — despite his right as the latest in a long line of Abbott Alphas. Who would stop at nothing to see the Abbott line ended and Waya Pack under their control. 

She didn’t want to look back. She wanted to forget. She wanted to play in the creek and bite at Rhett’s ankles and be a wolf pup. But Tessa did look back. When she heard a whimpering bark echo through the dark behind her. From a voice she knew all too well. Whose pain she felt somewhere deep within her chest.

Rhett was on the ground, covered by a blond mass of fur with a bleeding eye. They rolled around in the grass, much like he and Tessa were only minutes before, but these bites were meant to draw blood. Claws digging in and growls rumbling the very earth. 

“Rhett!” Tessa cried as she turned, fumbling over herself like a fawn on ice to get back and help him.

Even if it hurt. Even if it cost her her life.

How could she go back to being a kid after this?

She roared as her shoulder collided with Trevor, using all her momentum and all her weight to knock him off of Rhett.

“S-Stay back!” she barked, shooting for confident but hitting terrified. “We’re goin’ home. We w-won’t come back here’gain. Please, jus’leave us alone.” 

Rhett groaned on the ground behind her as she backed up over his form, covering him as best she could with her smaller frame. Her limbs shook, her fur stood on end, as Trevor got up and snarled at her. Blood poured from his face, blotching out his right eye in red. Rhett’s blood glistened on his sharp teeth as he bared them at her, stalking closer. 

“Such a pretty lil’thing,” he repeated. 

It made her sob. 

Then, a great and mighty roar echoed in the clearing. Deep and booming, a noise from a crack in the earth. An Alpha’s roar. Tessa instantly bowed her head, forced into humble submission by the call of the Alpha. Instant relief, instant calm. Her Alpha was here. Everything was going to be okay. Even Trevor, an Omega belonging to now pack, could not resist. Curling in on himself as he halted in his tracks.

Not a moment later, Royal Abbott lept over Tessa and Rhett, who still lay on the ground. He growled low in his throat as he landed with a thud, his wolf form as big as a truck. Brown fur spotted with grey glittering in the moonlight. Trevor could do nothing but cower in the face of such power — even though he claimed not to submit to it. 

“Get lost before I rip out y’r throat,” Royal sneered.

Trevor scrambled to his feet and ran off whimpering. Billy followed quickly behind.

As soon as he was gone, Tessa turned to Rhett. She could feel her muscle and bone shifting, fur receding — the wolf retreating back inside her human form. The calm brought on by her Alpha’s presence and the oncoming exhaustion forced her to change. Just as Rhett seemed to have done as he lay there just a boy, twitching and bleeding. 

“Rhett,” she sighed as she dropped to her knees beside him. “Oh god.” 

There were claw marks on his neck and collarbone. An indent of teeth and canines torn through his t-shirt at his side, blood still weeping to the surface. He clutched at his stomach, where the bleeding was the worst, fingers digging in as he tried to make it stop.

“M’gonna be fine, Tess,” he rasped out, his free hand curling around her wrist. “Don’cry.” 

She didn’t even realize she was. But she could feel it now. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks and blurred her vision to vague shapes as she clutched at his torn shirt. Put her hand over the cuts on his neck to somehow make the healing go faster. Imbue him with some of her own power just to make it stop.

She had never seen so much crimson in her life.

“What the hell d’you think y’were doin’?” Royal bellowed suddenly, rounding Rhett’s prone form to stare his youngest pack members down — eyes still burning red even in his human state.

Beyond her control, Tessa felt her mouth open and words begin to fall out, “We-We were just playin’. Horsin’ around. Th-They came outta nowhere.” 

Royal put his hands on his hips. “You cross the fence line?”

“No!” she shouted, tears making her throat burn. “Couldn’t even — see it.” 

“Dad, let off’er,” Rhett croaked, trying to sit up. “We weren’t doin’ nothin’. Swear.”

Royal was silent for a moment. His shoulders heaving and nostrils flaring as he stared down at the two of them. His youngest betas, freshly turned born wolves only fifteen years old. So much to learn. So much they didn’t know. So must he wanted to keep from them just to preserve them as they were when they left the ranch house an hour ago. Laughing together. Playing together. As young pups should.

But now his son lay bleeding. The girl who would follow him anywhere by his side, blood all over her hands and clothes. Fear in both their eyes. In the tremble of their hands. In the way they looked to him for answers he didn’t possess.

They couldn’t go back to being those children now.

“Com’on,” he spoke simply, quietly. 

In a moment, Royal was overcome by his wolf once more. Standing tall and proud before lowering his belly to the ground. Tessa helped Rhett to his feet, then with her arm around his waist — careful of his injury despite it no longer hurting him — she assisted him over to his father. The exhaustion was really starting to set in now. Deep in her bones. Not only from the horror with the Tillersons but merely from the transformation. Girl to wolf and back to girl again. She wouldn’t be able to get back to her wolf form until she was rested even if she tried. 

Rhett climbed up onto his father’s back first. Smearing blood into his fur. Then Tessa followed, settling in front with her fingers tangled in the long coarse hairs.

“Hang on,” Royal’s nearly imperceptible rumble sounded in her thoughts. 

And then they were off at a trot. She squeezed her legs around Royal’s middle, much like she did when she rode her horse. Rhett slumped against her back, hands bracing himself against her thigh and waist. He groaned as they bounced along, forehead coming to rest against her shoulder. 

“They hurt you?” he asked quietly.

The crickets were chirping again. An owl hooted somewhere — mouse in its talons.

“No,” she replied, looking over at his sweaty hair drenched in moonlight. “M’okay.” 

He only grunted in reply. A confirmation. A sound she had heard so many times before but this time it made her smile. A relieved sort of thing as she leaned back against him just a little more. It was a sound she could have never heard again. The thought scared her. Made her blood run cold as she looked back at the west pasture one final time. A line of trees and swaying grass disappearing as they turned north. Never to return. Her Alpha didn’t even have to say it for her to know.

When they arrived back at the Abbott ranch house, her parents were standing outside waiting for her. Her father with his hands on his hips, her mother holding a shawl around her shoulders, hand pressed anxiously to her neck. Rhett’s older brother, Perry, stood on the porch with his mate under his arm. Rebecca, turned by the bite only a year ago, her hand resting on her rounded belly. Rhett was no longer leaning on her as much, hands retreating from her as his strength returned. He didn’t even need help getting down from Royal’s back — sliding off first as soon as his father came to a stop.

Once on solid ground, her parents rushed her. Her mother squeezed up and down her arms, looking all over for any sort of wounds or marks. Her father cupped the back of her head and gently forced her to look up at him. His face was stern but his eyes swam with a fear she had never seen before. 

“M’okay. M’not hurt,” she assured, even as her mother continued to fuss. “S’Rhett that needs tendin’ to.” 

She looked over her mother’s shoulder to her friend as he lowered himself down onto the porch steps with a grimace, clutching his side. It was true that his wounds were already beginning to heal. What would have still been bleeding and most likely killed an average person, was already clotted. But precautions still had to be taken, wounds bandaged and sealed together to help the healing along. 

Tessa’s mother, as Waya Pack’s healer, turned to the young boy. But stopped when Royal growled. 

“In his room, June,” he gruffed out as he walked past, blood stains on his jacket. “I wan’both of’em inside and kept tha’way till mornin’. Burn their clothes.”

He pounded up the steps past his son, barely sparing him a glance. Then he disappeared inside the house, the screen door slamming shut behind him. Perry and his bride followed suit. Only Rebecca looked back at Rhett with a kind of sympathy Tessa had never seen an Abbott display before, pretty blonde hair flicking over her shoulder.

Her father came to collect her clothes an hour later. T-shirt and jeans covered in dirt and blood and darkness and glowing white eyes. He wouldn’t meet her eye and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. Tessa’s hair hung damp around her shoulders as she passed off the bundle through the small crack she had made in the door.

“Y’alright, bug?” he asked softly, clothes held at his side.

No she wanted to say. She wanted to burst into tears like a child and have him hold her in his lap like he would back then. Put on cartoons and give her a treat to help her forget. But those days were over and done. Her friend almost died. She almost died. The Tillersons were still out there. Watching them from only a few miles away. Waiting to strike. 

She just nodded instead. “S’Rhett okay?”

Her father sighed and smiled, a small knowing thing. “He’s jus’fine. Should be all better come mornin’.” 

Tessa nodded again and he shut the door with a goodnight. But how could she possibly go to sleep? When she still heard Trevor’s cold whisper in her mind like an icy wind and saw the tearing of flesh from bone? She lay in her bed, quilt pulled up to her chin, and stared at the popcorn texture of the ceiling. It made sense why they didn’t return to the Abernathy home across town. The pack needed to stay together after such an event. But so much like the child she felt she could no longer be, she craved her own bed. Her own quilted blanket her mother made while pregnant with her. Her own popcorn-textured ceiling. For her and her friend never to have gone into the west pasture in the first place.

After what felt like several hours of trying, Tessa threw back her blankets and got out of bed. The floorboards creaked and groaned as she crossed the room to the window. The world was a black void. Only illuminated by the bright, shining disc of the moon. Almost full. She could feel its power tingling in her chest, in the tips of her fingers.

Cecelia Abbott, before she passed on from this life, used to say that the Moon Goddess had cursed Waya Pack. Abandoned them to a world set against them. Why else would the Tillerson family turn away from the pack and their numbers shrink to barely seven? Waya was a pack the Goddess wanted dead — for what sins Cecelia could never say. But Tessa did not think, as she looked up into the pale moon’s comforting face, that the Goddess could be so cruel. She was of blessings and curses, but she cared for her children. Even in the bleakest of hours. 

Opening the window, knowing the whole house could hear her, she climbed out onto the roof. The shingles were rough beneath her bare feet, but she didn’t mind. With the night came cooler air, still dry, but somehow more tolerable.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” a voice asked. 

She jumped and turned, only to see Rhett sitting there in his pajama bottoms, hugging his knees. Shoulder and side held together with crimson-stained bandages. His blue eyes looked swollen from crying in the moonlight, but she didn’t comment on it. 

“No,” she said as she crawled over to sit next to him.

Rhett took a shaky breath. “M’sorry. We shoulda…Shoulda jus’gone t’the creek.” 

“S’not y’r fault.” 

He didn’t say anything to that. Only sniffed and leaned back on the heels of his hands, legs outstretched. “Waddaya think’s gonna happen now?”

“I don’ know,” she said with a shrug, looking up at the stars spattered across the sky like spilled salt. “Now tha’we’re full wolves, I guess we’ll find out.”

Now that we’ve seen blood. Now that we’re not kids anymore. 

Rhett grunted that familiar low noise and Tessa looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Not yet boy and not yet man. His hair was cut short like his mother preferred but Tessa knows he hates. A lone curl brushed his forehead. Blue eyes like stormy skies turned towards the moon. To the goddess who felt so far above. 

She knew they weren’t mated. If they were, they would know by now. Her mother having long before told her the signs. That unexplainable draw to them, that connection. She knew she didn’t have that with Rhett, but it didn’t stop her from feeling something for him. It didn’t stop her heart from racing anytime they shared looks across rooms or tables, secrets and jokes and promises to laugh later. It didn’t stop her stomach from filling with butterflies anytime he touched her. It didn’t stop her from dreaming about one day, maybe, them being together. Taking residence in the little cottage on her parents' land and filling it with pups of their own. It was a fool's dream, but a good dream. 

It didn’t stop her from wondering if his actions today were some evidence that he felt the same.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” she asked, he just turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised expectantly, so she went on. “Why’d you…Defend me like that to the Tillersons?”

Her hand inched across the shingles towards his own, grating against her palm like sandpaper. A fool’s hope. What if…?

The corner of his mouth ticked up before he said, “‘Cause y’re my best friend. Couldn’t stand’em talkin’bout you like that.”

Heart no longer racing. Butterflies put to rest. Of course. They were friends. Nothing more. Always would be. Tessa drew back her hand. Turned her face towards the moon, the Goddess’ eye hung so high, high up in the sky, and said nothing more.

Two years later, Rhett and Tessa were still just pups in everyone else’s eyes. Though Rhett was now nearly as big as his father in wolf form and even taller than him as a boy. Strong and powerful — ready for a fight. Tessa remained the smallest member of the pack, but she was stealthy, quick and quiet — her eyes keen.

The two of them grew even closer. Sticking together both in and out of school. Tessa never brought up her feelings for Rhett, no matter how much they grew as they grew too. They were friends, best friends, and always would be. Wolves in the same pack. Together until the end.

And nothing further had happened with the Tillersons. That Omega clan. But Waya Pack remained ready, vigilant, cautious.

Until one day Rebecca went on a walk to left off some steam after a fight with Perry. 

She never came back home.

They searched for three days on their own, wolf noses turned to the earth, following her scent. Eventually, they crossed the west pasture and the smell of death. Perry howled, a sorrowful sound that rattled the trees, ready and willing to go onto Tillerson land and kill them all. But they were too many, and Waya was too few. Even more so now that Rebecca was gone.

So Royal turned to the law. Hoped they could find something to lock Wayne and the rest of his spawn away forever. But the sheriff couldn’t find a shred of evidence, going so far as to turn the blame back on Perry after hearing about the fight they had. 

They searched for a year, but eventually, the police just stopped looking.

Their little daughter, Amy, was only two years old. Eyes as big and blue as the sky and bright blonde hair down to her ears. The spitting image of her turned-wolf mother. Tessa held the toddler on her lap as the sheriff delivered the news that Rebecca was gone — and there was nothing to be done.

Waya Pack, settled in Wabang and ruled by Abbott blood for over 200 years, was down to six fighting wolves. Dying — on the brink of extinction. Cursed. For what sins Tessa still didn’t know, but she tried to repent of them regardless. To save her family, her friends, her way of life. 

Her everything.

Seven days after the police gave up on their search for Rebecca, three days after Tessa’s eighteenth birthday, Royal asked the Abernathy clan to come to dinner. 

Not an unusual occurrence. In fact, the families had dinner together multiple times a week in those days. When the world seemed to be caving in around them and their only hope was each other. But the air felt…Off as they sat around the cramped kitchen table and ate their chicken and potatoes. Gone was the usual quiet calm, the strength that comes with being together as a pack. It was replaced by a tense silence, parents sharing sidelong glances, and the uneasy scraping of cutlery against China. 

She glanced at Rhett to see if he was feeling the same and he gave her a look back. He was. He felt it too. They wondered if the storm would break during or after their meal.

After, it seemed it would be. As Royal led everyone into the living room and her parents decidedly sat in the armchairs on either side of the couch, Royal choosing to stand by the fireplace. Rhett and Tessa shared another look. Eyebrows furrowed, lips turned down in frowns. What is going on? They sat down on the couch together slowly, looking around at everyone with shifting eyes — noticing that Perry did not join them. The storm clouds were dark, ready to burst at any moment. Their parents kept looking at them anxiously, almost with pity. 

Rhett opened his mouth to tell them to just be out with it. 

But Royal beat him to the punch: 

“The Abernathy’s’n I’ve been talkin’. You two’re goin’t’get married.” 

The storm had only just begun.

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[delopsia]

stars on the barn floor | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 9,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, werewolf!Rhett, blowjobs, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, knotting, light bondage to keep Rhett from eating you alive, collars, heavy usage of "good boy," vague size kink, and a fluffy ending to top it all off. Rhett's just a big puppy in this one ❣ Brief Summary: This full moon, you're not letting Rhett spend his whole night chained up in the barn. No, tonight, you're gonna have some fun with him.  

The crunch of gravel beneath your feet might be the only sound on this ranch. Where the wind is usually eager to whip past you, it has now fallen quiet, too exhausted to continue its ambitious journey. You think there may be some crickets chirping contentedly next to the pasture gate, the one that still bears the scars of being rammed by a rich kid's Ford. It ought to be fixed by now; Cecelia says lightning doesn't strike twice, but Royal says that a new one will just get torn up, too.

The old man must have a crystal ball up in that hat of his. 

Fortunately, you don't need magic to know that you're about to walk your happy self into the equivalent of a lion's den, armed with nothing but a few flimsy pieces of leather and a strip of black fabric. A rifle would be a good start, but even that won't be enough to protect you if things get...hairy. 

These barn doors are so much bigger than they looked from the safety of the porch, towering over your head, the rusted handle ice cold in your shivering hand. You've got time to turn back. Even if he does know you're out here, you know he won't hold it against you for making the better, safer decision. 

But...

Chains clatter together, chased by a groan so low that you don't know if it's coming from the man inside or the settling of the barn.

"Rhett?" Your voice dies in your mouth as you push the door open, barely audible to your own ears. It's a wonder if your tone even carries a foot in front of you, never mind across the room.

Boots scuff against concrete, spurs jingling. He heard you. 

The prickle of your skin suggests that he can see you, but as you trudge into the darkness, it sets in that you cannot see him. Navigating blindly, hands held out at your sides, feeling along the rough texture of the old stalls, ancient and dusty from lack of use. They haven't seen a horse since last summer when Rhett and Perry put the finishing touches on the new barn. 

"Rhett?" Calling out again, as if doing so will make it easier to locate him. 

That low growl is closer than you anticipated it would be. 

Light trickles in through the warped window frames overhead. Thin slivers cascade downward, miniature spotlights revealing everything in its path. There's movement in the center of the room, chains clinking as a slim figure interrupts the delicate light show of the full moon, stumbling left, then right, bound to the center of the room. 

Opening your mouth once more, you call out his name. "Rhett?" 

His head jerks. Boots stomping the dusty floor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. All it would take is for those steel chains to come off the overhead beam, and you'd be toast, sliced up like tomorrow's breakfast sausage. 

But he already sees you. 

The light catches in his golden eyes, reflecting off them like mirrors. Your blood runs so cold that it might freeze. A handful of times, you've caught sight of their unnatural glow, rising to the surface when he grows angry, but it's never been quite this bright. Blindingly so. And yet, they're not all that different from the ones you've come to know. 

Soft around the edges, encased by long eyelashes that flutter as you come near.

"Get out," curt. Grit through his teeth. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was in the middle of a roleplay. His ears have long since broken from their natural human form, pointed and wolfish, sitting atop his head like a pair of triangles. There's a tear out of the left one, right at the tip, from a scuffle with his brother a few years back. 

Perry still doesn't talk about where the bite scar on his shoulder came from.

"Get." Fangs flash with the opening and closing of his mouth. "Out." 

Perhaps you're simply entranced by the sight of him; it's been days since you last saw him, and even then, it was a short meeting in a feed store checkout line. Or maybe you've plum lost your mind, a dumb sheep walking into the mouth of a hungry wolf. 

The leather slips from your hands, falling to the floor with a clatter so loud you reckon it'll wake the neighbors. Rhett jolts. Stumbling backward with a heavy growl that vibrates all the way up into your bones. His lip curls with a warning. One little nip is all it would take to remove a finger. But it's as if you're caught in a trance. You can't seem to stop yourself from reaching up and curling your palms around his scruffy cheeks. 

He's stiff. Heated gaze boring into your skull. "I said—" Your thumb rises to stroke the thin skin directly beneath his eye. 

And he's quiet.

The muscle there softens. Squishing beneath your touch. Dare you consider it; you reckon his gaze has warmed by a degree or two. A little shinier than before, as if the light of the moon is reflecting off a serene lake. 

Hesitant, his head tilts, eyes falling shut as he pushes into your touch. 

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

"Yer gonna get hurt," he mutters, but he makes no effort to squirm away, "if I come loose..."

The vicious wolf he's always warned you about is nowhere to be found. No bloodthirsty snarls or vicious snapping of his teeth as you grow near. Hell, the moon is as high as she will go, but he hasn't even fully shifted.

Your thumb ventures down his face, swiping across his bottom lip, past needle-sharp teeth and all. "You seem pretty lucid to me."

"'cause it's still early," his head jerks, afraid of your touch, all of a sudden.

One would think that a werewolf, a cowboy no less, would be pretty decent at understanding how to tell the time based on the positioning of the moon. Alas, you won't be sharing the insight you gained from looking at the time on your cell. 

Talking isn't what you're here for, anyway. 

No. Instead, your hands on his cheeks are growing firmer, holding him still, and he must have already caught on to what you're doing because his boots slam against the floor. Agitated. Trying to step backward. But his arms are still bound behind his back, and he's still attached to that beam overhead, can only move so much before he hits a dead end. 

A snarl tears through the quiet air. He's trapped with nowhere to escape. Those razor-like canines are showing themselves again. A flashy warning that he makes no attempt to fulfill, not moving a muscle as you lean in and tilt his head down, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. 

The smile spreading across his face reveals the unnatural jaggedness of his molars. If it weren't attached to Rhett, you think you may have run out the door by now. "Did y' come all the way out here for a kiss?"

"You're guilty of it too, cowboy," you've lost count of all the times he's shown up at your door, looking for a little love. A kiss here, a snuggle on the couch there, once, he showed up just to see you smile and hear your voice. 

"I know it," the roll of his eyes is the last thing you see before you move in once more, lips finding the corner of his jaw. "I know it..." 

Your hands are sliding away from his face, smoothing past his chest, on a one-way track to find those damned buttons on his flannel. It must be your lucky day because it's one of his pearl snap shirts; each and every one of them pops open with the slightest tug. 

"'ts a bad time to be feelin' me up, darlin'," Rhett's muttering beneath his breath, but he's stepping forward. Pressing into the caress of your touch, fingers running over the divots of his ribs, up and down the smooth skin of his back. Anywhere and everywhere, all at the same time.

Your mouth pauses against his neck. "Is it?" 

For a moment, he's quiet. This close, you reckon you can hear the gears turning in his head, searching for the right words to say. He shifts, bumping himself into your mouth, but it doesn't reward him with another kiss. 

You wonder if he's realized that he stomps his foot when he's feeling impatient. 

"Not that 'm complainin'," his voice is quieter as if he's afraid to hear the sound of it.

Fortunately, you're in no mood to hold out any further, already beginning to lean in and ghost your lips over a vein, tongue darting out to trace across it. A portion of you is amazed that he's letting you do this, tilting his head to grant you access to his vulnerable throat, humming at your touch. So completely and utterly comfortable, despite the dizzying draw of the moon and the overwhelming helplessness he's placed himself into. Those chains behind his back are far too strong for him to break on his own; he can't defend himself, even if he wants to. 

But that's not on your mind at all. No, you're too focused on nipping at his sensitive collarbone, still bruised from your handiwork earlier in the week. Then, down across his chest, broad and thick enough for you to get a greedy handful of as you kiss your way below that cheap, faded tattoo he got when he turned eighteen. 

Your tongue darts out to lave across a soft nipple.

"Shit," he sucks in a breath, always so sensitive here, "that...you..."

It's such a simple thing. Swirling your pointed tongue around the bud, feeling the way it hardens within a matter of seconds. You shouldn't be getting anything out of it, and yet, your thighs are squeezing together without a second thought. All the while, your fingers are finding that neglected bud, pinching it between your thumb and index. 

Rhett jerks, stumbling backward. "Leave...leave those alone."

"I thought you liked having your nipples played with?" You know the answer to that.

He knows the answer to that. 

But that doesn't mean he's going to say it out loud. Not without a few beers buzzing through his veins, warping his filter just enough to let a million and one truths tumble off his pretty tongue. 

"Don't say it like—mmh,"  sucking in his bottom lip, barely stifling that little noise.

You'd linger a little longer if you weren't thinking about something else. Every kiss you press to his skin glistens in the light, shimmering little patches that trail down the soft muscle of his belly, across his belly button. Never ending until his belt rudely intercepts you, obnoxiously large buckle still fastened and shiny as ever. 

Without a second thought, you pinch it open, knees settling against the dusty floor. 

"Oh my god," Rhett's head lolls backward, neck on full display, "you ain't...you're..." As if your intentions couldn't get any clearer, you find the flip of his zipper, pulling it down. "Shit, y' are." 

The only thing between you and what you're after is this damned button. Popping it open takes two seconds and two centuries, all in the same moment. "What did you think I was doing?" 

His feet shift, spurs singing their shrill little tune whilst you reach through the gap in his boxers. "I can lose my mind 'n eat ya alive at any given moment," interrupted by a shaky breath as your soft hand wraps around his half-hard length, "'n all y' wanna do is suck my cock."

You've gotten a little too good at guiding him past his confines, out into the cool air of this dingy old barn. It's a shame that you can hardly see him; a portion of you was beginning to wonder if this whole full moon thing would change anything in this department. 

"Is that a problem?" Feeling around blindly, your hand slips back through the fabric. 

His hips jolt as your fingers brush against his balls, gently drawing them out. They're heavier than you last recall them being, but maybe that's your memory playing tricks upon you. All you know is that Rhett's opening his mouth again, and you've been presented with the perfect opportunity to shut him up.

"Naw, I ain't sayin' that," he whispers. So airy and light that he might be up on a cloud, "'m tryin' to tell—shit." 

Your devilish tongue glides up the underside of his balls. Not afraid to let him feel the scrape of your teeth, internally hoping it will translate as some kind of sick reminder of his place. "What was that...?"

"No, no, no," you can't see it, but you know he's shaking his head, "jus'...keep doin' that." 

Can't complain with that logic. 

A little too excited, your mouth returns to the underside of him, his heavy cock bumping against your temple. It shouldn't do all that much for him, but the feeling of you gently sucking on his balls is all it takes to get him groaning low in his throat. Behind him, the chains clink, biceps straining against them, desperate to paw at the back of your head. Always a little too keen to get you moving on to his cock.

But you're in control here, and right now, you're too focused on moving over to equal out the attention. Carefully sucking on him, tongue soothing the skin when you let him fall free of your mouth. His feet shift, boots impatiently clunking across the floor. Your hand rises, taking hold of his all-too-heavy cock, hard as a rock within a matter of moments. 

A drop of precum spills onto the floor, leaving a shiny spot that catches in the light. Almost looks like a tiny star has fallen out of the sky to join in on the fun. A second lands to join, mere inches away from the first. 

You're far too stingy to let a third go to waste. Licking up the underside of him, trailing up the thick vein that emerges from his base and not stopping until you reach his tip. Plush and silky soft against your lips, he hasn't gotten an ounce of attention here, and yet he's soaked. There's so much precum gathered here that it looks like you've already taken him into your mouth.

"What's got you so wet, cowboy?" A lopsided grin interrupts your teasing, sprawling across your face before you can realize it. 

The corner of his lip wavers up and down, "'y know exactly why." 

"No, I don't reckon I do," leaning back on your haunches just as his hips thrust forward, seeking a contact he's no longer receiving. 

Rhett's quiet. Always has been a little shy when it comes to telling you exactly what got him going. Those wolfish ears twitch, stubborn teeth sinking into his bottom lip as if his words are going to burst past at any moment. He just needs the slightest push...like leaning forward and opening your mouth, hot breath fanning out against his flushed tip.

Again, his foot stomps. "Fuckin' mean." But then he's lowering his head, long strands of hair cascading into his face. "I..." hesitating, if only for a second, "like when y' go 'n do whatever ya want with me."

You knew what he was fixing to say, but that doesn't mean you're any less excited to hear him voice it. "Yeah?"

Nodding. "Uhuh—oh." 

A giggle is all you can manage, mouth too full of his cock to do much else. Heavy and throbbing against your tongue, already so damn excited, and you're not even started. Only just beginning to start sucking on him, cheeks hollowing as you gradually take more of him in. His pretty moan is an encouragement all on its own. 

Sucking off a werewolf during a full moon isn't exactly something that has made it onto your bucket list, but oh, is it a dream. Listening to the way his arms strain against his iron restraints, desperate to cling to your head as it begins to bob, slow ups and downs, at your own comfortable pace. 

Experimental, you lean back until your tongue can swirl around his sensitive tip. 

His thighs squeeze so tight that his knees damn near knock together. "Fuckin—ah!"  Even from down here, you can see how his jaw has gone slack, completely and utterly lost in the feeling of your mouth. "Sen...sensitive." 

All you can do is hum, amused by the little shiver that ripples up his spine. 

It's been a few weeks since you've last felt him on your tongue, but your memory is gradually beginning to come back, hands scurrying off to work. One wraps around the base of his shaft, the past that you can never fit in your mouth, while the other reaches to find his soft balls, still wet from your earlier handiwork. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he's babbling, head rolling back and forth. Restless. "Keep doin' that." 

There's already an ache blooming in the corner of your jaw, but you can't help yourself. Not when Rhett's keening high in his throat, panting like a damn dog as you lower your head, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth. His blunt head bumps into the back of your throat. Damn near sends you lurching. 

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, burning like they're going to start streaming down your face at any moment, but you can't bring yourself to mind it. You're far too preoccupied with getting another one of those noises out of him, sucking hard on your next draw backward.

A crippling whimper breaks through the midnight air. His hips jolt forward by the tiniest fraction.

You might as well have cracked the code to a bank safe. 

He's a goner. He knows it. You know it. He knows you know it. Because you keep doing it. Long, slow bobs of your head, the ones that he desperately tries to chase the feeling of. Drool runs past your swollen lips and down your chin, leaving you just as wet and slick as he is, dripping off your skin and speckling across the barn floor. 

It's so distracting that you've nearly forgotten about the leather that rests by your right knee. It is not as if you can do anything to put your plan into motion; no, your hands are full. One gently stroking his shaft in synchrony with the rise and fall of your head, the other slowly beginning to roll his balls in your palm. Working him over like you're getting paid to do it. 

Rhett's strangled whine catches in his throat. "'m already close." 

You don't know if it's a warning or a plea, but the discomfort in your jaw is getting easier to ignore. Cheered on by the shiver that sets into his thighs and the airy noises tumbling out of him, starving for a breath that he can't keep ahold of. Broad chest heaving, still glistening with the trail that led you to your knees. 

His foot taps against the floor. 

"Baby, baby, baby," chanting like a melody, chased by the sweet cry of your name, "I'm gonna...I'm gonna..." 

Humming, you tilt your head to look up at him. Wide eyes meeting with his half-lidded golden ones—the tip of your tongue lifts, dancing across the sensitive underside of him. 

That's all it takes. 

You feel the twitch of his cock before his raspy wail greets your ears. A shudder wracking up his body. Spine trembling. Hips jerking forward as rope after rope of his cum spills from his overworked cock. Flooding your mouth. The base of his cock swells with every pulse. Too shallow to catch and form a knot, but he's almost there. If you push him a little further in a few minutes, you might get one out of him.

Devilish, you swallow around his softening length, amused by the sudden whimper and backward jerk of his hips. Pulling himself out of your mouth with a nice, wet pop.

Those sweet eyes of his are closed. Blissfully unaware, on his own plane of existence. So far gone that he doesn't seem to notice as you tuck him back into the safety of his jeans. Nor does he rouse at the sound of you grabbing the leather from the floor. Your knees ache as you rise to your feet, the wet spots on the floor looking something akin to a galaxy as you reach for the chains behind his back. The mechanism is simpler than it looks. Just one little pinch and—

"What—what are you doing?" Tripping over his own words. Arms suddenly falling to his sides. Free. "No, no, no, you can't—"

"Do you trust me?" Spoken far too gently for it to be such a sharp interruption. 

His lower jaw quivers, mouth parting the slightest bit. You can almost see the gears twisting and turning up in his scrambled head. 

Hesitant, he lowers his head with a shallow nod. "'course, but I can hurt..." Falling silent as you lift that thin rope of leather for him to see, held taut between two hands, the silver buckle gleaming in the moonlight. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

A boot thumps against the ground. Nudging himself closer to it. No glimpse of razor-sharp canines. Ears round and human as can be. Not even a sliver of gold in those wide eyes. Whatever control he's found, if you can even call it that, doesn't slip. Even as you loop the leather around his throat, feeding one end through the clasp, buckling it shut. 

The snap of the leash clasp on his collar damn near makes your heart stop.

But Rhett hasn't moved, still perfectly in control. If anything, he's more interested in the thin piece of black fabric you're lifting, torn from an old t-shirt he ruined while moving the cattle to the west pasture. 

"What're y' doin'?" He mutters as if he's afraid to open his mouth too far, and though you're beginning to cover his eyes, he doesn't make a move to stop you. Remaining still, even as you tie a sloppy bow behind his head.

Your hand finds his cheek, squishing it with your thumb. "Taking you home, sweet boy."

The corner of his lip rises. 

With a delicate pull of the leash, he stumbles forward, spurs singing their shrill tune as he clumsily drags his feet. Even with the help of you at his side, he's a mess. Knocking into the barn door. Very nearly trips over your kitchen rug when you get him home. So willing to trust where you take him but not quite equipped to make it graceful. 

"Why'd ya cover my eyes, anyhow?" He grumbles, big, sharp ears twisting and turning as he hauls himself through another step. 

"You mentioned nearly mauling a cow a couple moons ago," pausing just long enough for you to get him around the corner, into the bedroom, "and I doubt you know how to heel." 

"I can, too!" Those unnatural teeth glint in the light. You wonder if he would let you touch them. "'m a werewolf, not a damn stray." 

His bare foot knocks into yours as you lead him to the bed, a little more confident now. There's not much for him to run into here. The biggest obstacle is the bed that's hitting the backs of your knees, has you falling backward before you can realize it. 

On his own whim, Rhett's thumbing at his belt buckle. Opens it so damn easy that you almost question how it took you so many tries when you first got together. It's no easy task, getting his jeans down his legs, the material clinging to his thighs like a second layer of skin. 

Vaguely, you think you catch the silhouette of his cock bouncing, half hard and smacking against his hip. "You took your boxers off, too?" 

"Might as well," seeing him naked from the waist down is a bit of a sight, but it's one that doesn't last for long. His flannel hits the floor even quicker than his jeans did. "Ain't gonna need 'em here in a minute."

Coy, you tilt your head. "What makes you think I'm in the mood?" It's only after that you realize he can't see what you just did. 

But Rhett's entirely oblivious of your mistake, lips rising with an obnoxious grin, sharp teeth poking through, "can smell it." 

Your face feels cold. Blood draining away as if someone has just pulled the plug, spilling out into everywhere but your head. "You can what?"

He's leaning closer. Nose nudging into the side of your cheek, warm breath fanning out and tickling your ear like a feather. "Yer scent gets a lil spice to it," he murmurs, so low that every word rumbles down your spine like thunder, "kinda sweet, too." 

His unshaven jaw bumps into yours, long enough to have lost that sandpaper-like texture, nothing but a smooth glide as he blindly guides himself to your ear. He'd nibble at the shell of it, if he weren't worried about accidentally eating you. "Makes me fuckin' dizzy jus' smellin' it," whispering, so damn close that you feel his lips brush against your skin.

Maybe that's the reason why your inhale shakes the way that it does. "So you knew what I was up to when I walked into the barn?"

"Mhm," his humming damn near makes you shiver, "jus' didn't know what kinda fun you were hankerin' for." 

Your hand darts behind his head, tugging on the knot of his blindfold until it unravels, falling from his face and landing onto the sheets. 

Golden eyes stare back at you, vivid as ever. Except they're soft around the edges. The werewolf might have awoken for the night, but Rhett Abbott never went to sleep. He's still here, with you, crawling into bed the same way he always does. His cheeks fit into your palms the same, squishing beneath your touch as you draw him in.

He kisses the same, too. Humming into it, purring like a pleased little kitten, shifting to brace his weight on one arm, free hand skirting up the side of your shoulder. Fangs graze your bottom lip, a delicate reminder of the power they hold and what they could do if the reigns of control were to slip from his grasp.

But Rhett's never been anything other than gentle. The sharp impression of his teeth is merely there for show, as harmless as the muscles that bulge in his arms, present to protect and never to harm. Because his open arm drifts around your waist as he pushes you backward, cushioning an already soft fall. 

Your hands are on the move, one grabbing hold of his meaty bicep, the other drifting across his shoulder, blissfully abandoning the task at hand. His rough mouth parts your lips, a growl sitting so low in his throat that you almost mistake it for distant thunder, rattling the house and you with it. Rhett's warm belly may be pressed against yours, pinning you to the mattress, but it isn't enough to keep you from wondering if you've floated off the bed and begun spinning around the room.

"My shirt," you gasp, breathless, "get it..."

There's no point in finishing your sentence because Rhett's already tugging at the end of it, only breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over your head. The bedroom air hadn't felt cold until now. A sharp contrast compared to Rhett and his warm lips that melt with yours fits so perfectly, like your own perfect puzzle piece. 

His hips roll forward, rutting into your core, merely held back by the soft fabric of your pants, so thin that he could rip through them if he wanted. But he doesn't seem interested in doing such a thing, simply content to drag his leaking cock against the inside of your thigh, wetting the fabric there. 

"C'n I take these off?" He's speaking against your lips, too lazy to pull away any further than he already has. 

You're already nodding. "Please."

Now, he's got to draw himself away from you. Leaning back onto his haunches, the muscle of his chest catching in the moonlight that peaks through the window, calloused hands smoothing down the sides of your waist. Your hips lift from the bed just as his fingers curl into your waistband. 

That leather leash knocks into your leg as he draws your pants and underwear down all in one go, handle tapping at your knee as if to get your attention. One of your hands are reaching for it before you've even realized it, fingers slipping through the loop. It's just long enough to give him the space to pull your pants past your heels, only pulls tight when he leans back a smidgen further. 

"Forgot ya got me collared," Rhett's chuckling, already yielding to the tug of the leash. His lips graze up the side of your ankle, ambling along in no real rush as he makes his way back up your legs. Kissing at the juncture of your knee and up into the inside of your thigh, tongue darting out to sloppily wet the skin there. 

Golden eyes flicker up to meet your gaze. 

Idle, your unoccupied fingers find their way into his hair, curling and twisting in the messy curls that rest at the back of his neck. The leash pulls, too eager to guide him higher. Wasn't exactly a part of your plan for tonight, but you cannot even begin to deny yourself this simple pleasure. 

"Good boy," it's hushed, and it's barely there, but the words tumble off your tongue like any other. 

Rhett hears them. You know he has because those dumb, wolfish ears emerge from the darkness. Twisting and turning. Drinking up the tiny noise that chokes out of your throat when he sucks on a patch of skin on your inner thigh, working it over until you're certain that he's left a mark there. Repeats it again a little further up, drifts over to your other thigh, the tip of his nose bumping into you as he guides himself up, up, up.

His breath fans out against your cunt. So hot that it nearly burns. 

Your tug on the leash is all the encouragement he needs. Tongue poking past his lips and drawing through your folds, licking a slow, fat stripe up your cunt, groaning to himself like he's just won a grand prize. Even here, you can feel the smooth glide of his teeth, almost a perfect mirror of the silent threat you made to him in the barn. 

Big hands settle on either side of your hips, holding you still as he dips down to repeat it once more. "Taste so fuckin' good," grumbling into your pussy, the vibration of his voice dancing around your sensitive clit. 

He's already getting comfortable, settling flat on his belly, arms curling around your thighs, hanging onto you like you'll wander away if he doesn't. Leaves you no choice but to clutch the back of his head as his upper lip brushes where you crave him most. The very spot that he's so deliberately ignoring.

"Bastard," hissing. If he'd just go a little higher...

"What?" Artificial innocence drips from his tone, peeking up at you beneath long lashes. He's the very definition of a man who knows what he's doing, with that dumb, wolfish grin sprawling across his face. 

Fuck, you can't stand him sometimes.

The leash yanks. Jerking him upward, his mouth helplessly dragged up to the very place he's been avoiding. So caught off guard that he's hardly got time to react, before you're pushing his head back down.

Two can play at this game. 

"Impatient," he grunts, but he's not making any move to fight back. Contentedly swirling his tongue around your clit like you've been wanting, only pausing to wrap his thin lips around it. 

A spark of heat jumps up your spine, bursting in your head like a lone firework. Makes it so damn hard for you to get your thoughts in order. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full, cowboy." 

Even with his face buried between your legs, it's impossible to miss the way that his eyes roll. Nor can you fail to notice the roll of his hips, chasing the feel of your sheets against his neglected cock, still heavy and weeping. 

But you can't pay attention to it for long because a calloused fingertip nudges between your folds. Stroking at your delicate entrance, pressing to feel the way you open up for him. What he finds must have been what he was looking for because the outer corners of his eyes rise with a smile. Your light tug of the leash is enough to keep him moving, that thick finger slipping into you without a second thought. 

It's been so damn long that you've nearly forgotten how this feels. The faint burn of taking him dry. How he curls upward, rubbing his blunt fingertip up your walls, rising up, up, up. You know he'll find that sweet little spot, he always does, but that doesn't stop your nerves from winding tight, thighs tensing as he nudges closer and closer to it.

"Fuckin' tight," he muses, drawing right across the nerves of your g-spot for the first time in forever. 

Your body jerks, a gasp bursting past your lips. "And who's fault is that?"

"I know," sheepishly pausing to twirl his pointed tongue across your cunt, "'m sorry." Pity rewards you with a second finger, eagerly nudging in alongside the first, finally beginning to stretch you in earnest. Pumping in and out of you to the languid tune of his mouth, a lazy sort of thing that has your thighs clamping down around his head. 

"Rhett..." you don't know why you're muttering his name, but he's humming his response, and it's sending a bolt of lightning up your core.

A plume of heat swells between your legs. Familiar. The kind that has your lower belly alight with an excitement you haven't felt since the last time. Spurred on by the rough fingertips that incessantly rub into your walls and the burning tongue that draws sharp figure eights across your spasming clit. Just a little bit more. Just a little bit—

"Stop." Blurting. A little too loud. 

Rhett freezes so quickly that his tongue doesn't even dart back into his mouth. So shocked that his ears have returned to their usual human shape. His eyes are the only thing that moves, darting up to scan your face. Whatever expression he's looking for, he doesn't find it. 

"Close?" Lifting his head. Stiff.

Weakly, you nod, tugging on his leash with an uneasy hand, "Uhuh." 

Those shoulders drop with a heavy sigh, fanning out against your sensitive core as he begins to move. Hands settle on either side of you, bracing his weight as he crawls up your body, the muscle in his biceps flexing with the simple effort, veins rising from his forearms. A sight so mesmerizing that you nearly miss grabbing the lube off the spare pillow. 

His hand darts out, reaching to take it, but you're a little quicker, drawing it out of his reach. 

"Sit," a simple order, not an ounce of firmness behind it.

Rhett's head tilts to the side, pausing if only for a second, then falls back onto his haunches without a word. Sitting innocently between your legs, watching as you sit up and snap the cap open. The lube spills out a little too quickly, flooding your palm and dripping between the crevices of your fingers. 

"Shit," his eyelashes flutter as your hand wraps around his heavy cock, lazily spreading the sticky fluid across him. There's so much of it. Squelching with the motion of your strokes, the excess running down into the neatly groomed hair at his base and beyond. "Think ya got enough on me?" 

"Aren't you usually heckling me for using too little?" Fighting the urge to laugh, slick hand reaching between your own legs. The nudge of your own two fingers isn't what you're craving in the slightest; too small and thin as compared to Rhett's, but they work just fine when it comes to spreading some more of the lube.

"'cause I don't wanna hurt ya," the corner of his lip quirks up. Smug. One of the many downsides of dating a man who's hung like a damn horse and knows it. 

But there are a number of upsides that come with the territory, too. Wrapping his hand around himself makes him seem that much bigger. Thick in his hand, so heavy that it can't stand upright without some help. Falling onto your back does nothing to help it, and even as he shifts forward, blunt tip nudging at your inner thigh, you can't help but wonder how you take him every time.

Nor do you know how you plan to take the knot that subtly swells at his base, still inflamed from your handiwork in the barn. 

His cock head nudges against your folds, experimentally rutting between them. Has the air hitching in your throat and your hand unintentionally yanking on his leash. 

"Alright, alright," mumbling to himself through a laugh, "impatient."

A familiar pressure blooms before you realize what he's talking about. The careful nudge of his dick at your entrance, gradually stretching you around his mushroom tip. And maybe the full moon really does affect his size because you don't recall it ever aching quite like this. A subtle burn rising, even with the lube, has you holding your breath as he opens you wider and wider. 

"Relax, doll," he's coaxing, in that quiet voice of his hands rising to glide up your sides, "can feel y' clenchin' 'round me."

Easier said than done. But his touch is distracting enough to let a puff of air burst past your lips, lungs burning for a fresh intake of oxygen, chest rising and falling in perfect tune with Rhett's. With it goes the tension in your thighs, falling slack against the bed, drawn out even further as his tip drags against the sweet bundle of nerves inside of you. Little sparks bolt through your nerves, bursting up in your head and behind your eyelids. 

The leash tugs again, but this time, it isn't an impatient correction. No, you're trying to draw him closer, helplessly beckoning him to settle down onto his forearms. And he does just that. Warm body coming to rest against yours, so close that his jaw bumps into yours. 

"'s this where ya want me?" He whispers, rubbing your noses together just for the sake of doing it. Always has to be stealing some kind of affection, even when his cock is sinking into you, inch by devastating inch, stretching you so wide that your thighs tremble from it. 

You can't formulate a response; the words in your head have broken into fragments. Maybe you'd be able to gather them up if not for the delicious sensation of him bottoming out. Not another inch to take of him, his hips flush with your body. It's a damn surprise that you haven't cracked in half, so full that your lungs feel like they've shrunk by two sizes. 

"You can..." you're already too winded to get your words out, "you can move." 

Rhett doesn't budge. Eyes closed, seemingly off in his own little world, content with the sensation of your warm cunt, wrapped around him. But you didn't go through all this trouble just to skip out on all the fun now.

You give the leash an experimental tug. Jerking him by the slightest fraction.

A growl bursts from his throat. So loud that the room seems to shake with it. Gone as quickly as it arrived, replaced with an awkwardly quiet air, wide blue eyes blinking back at you. As if you were the one who made the noise and not him. 

"Move," repeating yourself, and if he notices the wobble in the firmness of your tone, he doesn't acknowledge it. 

Obedient, his hips draw backward, and you immediately know you're in trouble. Even for such a shallow movement, he's dragging deliciously against every little nerve within your walls, the soft swell of his base catching on your entrance as he eases back inside. It's the second thrust that knocks the air from your chest, puffing past your lips as he bottoms out, the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

"That," blurting, before he can even begin to lose his angle, "keep doing that." 

"'s that the spot?" Rhett grins, fangs and all. As if he can't feel the way you involuntarily flutter around him when he passes over it again.

Your lube-slick hand tangles into his hair. There's not a doubt in your mind that it's going to leave it matted and sticky once it dries, but that's alright. You're both gonna need a bath once this is all said and done. 

He's finding his pace, rising higher up onto his forearms, properly hovering above you. The kind of shift that has his balls smacking into your ass, the heaviness of his body rocking yours against the bed. Your mattress squeaks with every heavy movement, but it's barely audible over the wet squelch of his cock disappearing into you and the grunts that rumble out of him. 

He's feeling it as much as you are, eyes squeezing shut, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, canines threatening to puncture the thin skin there. Even as he draws back to settle on his haunches, you can hear him. Unusually noisy, those low noises bubbling into something louder, traveling on the coattails of his breath. 

Your thighs rise to squeeze around his waist, pulling him in a little harder now, "you're getting loud, cowboy." 

"Fuckin' sensitive," his hair bounces into his face, forces him to run one of those big hands through it, "still haven't—oh fuck." 

Your cunt is spasming around him. Clenching and unclenching as his plush tip kisses those sweet little nerves over and over and over. Your unoccupied hand can't stay still. Grasping at the edge of the pillow, squeezing a fistful of the sheets, flailing around at your side like a fish out of water. Anything to keep yourself grounded. 

"God," squeezing his eyes shut, hardly stifling a moan, "y' feel so fuckin' good." 

The sight above you is enough to make you dizzy. Rhett and his messy curls, sweat beading on his forehead, and the veins along his arms have long since begun to show themselves. Muscles flexing with every heavy thrust, his thick cock disappearing between your parted legs, stretching you obscenely wide. 

Fuck, you can't believe this cowboy is real.

He's reaching beneath one of your shivering knees, fingers sprawling around the underside of it and pushing it up toward your belly. "Ain't ever stayin' away for that long again." 

And you don't ever want him to, either. This bed and this house have been far too quiet without him; your toys haven't seen this much of you since before the two of you met. But he's here now, black collar looped around his flushed neck, leash bouncing with the movement of his body, and you don't have any intention of cutting him loose. 

"Yer thighs are shakin' so much," he says it like he's not trembling himself, weak hand struggling to keep hold of your leg, the two of you wavering like leaves in the autumn breeze. "'s it feel that good, sweetheart?"

If he keeps talking, you're going to combust. 

The leash nearly slips out of your sweaty hand when you tug on it. Couldn't have been much of a pull at all, but it works a growl out of Rhett's throat, golden eyes twinkling as he lets you reel him back in. A little too eager to get close to you again, chests pressing against each other, mouths meeting for a kiss, so sloppy that it hardly counts as one. Lips bumping together, unable to do anything but that. 

"Good boy," it slips off your tongue without thinking. 

The phrase has never really crossed your vocabulary until tonight, but something about the collar and the distracting massage of his cock has you throwing all rationality out the window. There's only one way to find out if he likes the phrase or not. MIght as well learn on the one night when he's fully capable of swallowing you whole.

"Again." 

You almost don't believe what you just heard. 

But Rhett's nuzzling his nose against your cheek, suddenly losing his rhythm. "Call me that again." 

Fire ignites in your core. Spreading until it feels as if your entire body has been plunged into a pot of boiling water. Fuck, if he keeps—if he just keeps doing that. "Good boy," repeating yourself, dissolving into a mewl.

His whole body jerks. Set off like a damn firecracker. Head dropping low, keening high in his throat, too weak to hold it back anymore. If he had a tail, you have no doubt that it would be wagging back and forth, a little too eager to hear your praise.

Impatient, your hand dips between your bodies, the pads of your fingers pressing against your clit. Sparks volt through your nerves. Has your heart lurching and hammering in your heaving chest. You're already close. 

"Want you to knot me," admitting your plan is easier than it should have been, falling off your drooling tongue without a shred of fear. "Can you do that?"

Now you've got his attention, snapping up to look at you. Mouth open. Eyes wide, clear for the briefest of moments. But then his cock head hits your g-spot head on, and it's got you clenching around him like a fucking vice. You're both gone. Fear of getting hurt be damned. Neither of you can think of anything except for this, this, this.

Then you hear it. The faintest "uhuh" you've ever heard. 

But it's there.

"Such a good boy for me," you might be babbling, but you don't care. Rhett's whimper is just as loud as yours, dancing together in the bedroom air, and that's all that matters. "so good, Rhett."

The base of his cock is swelling. Growing taut with a knot that catches on your rim, forcing those long strokes to devolve into short, fragile little motions. His voice is getting pitcher, whispering nonsense that sounds like your name, the curve of his nose pressing into the underside of your jaw. 

Until all of a sudden, his hips are slamming into yours, and he's cumming in you with a pitiful cry. Knot swelling into a bulb, locking your exhausted bodies together as his cum finally, finally spills into you, flooding your helpless pussy with rope after rope of white. And all he can do is collapse on top of you, his head buried into the gap of your neck.

You're so full of him. Nowhere for his cum to escape, even whilst his hips involuntarily twitch forward, jostling the mess he's made inside of you. And it's all just making your fingers work a little faster, rubbing over your clit over and over, spasming impossibly tight around his overworked cock. 

"Cum 'round me," Rhett's begging, his voice shaky can be. "Please."

And you do.

Back jerking up off the mattress, spots dancing across your vision, cumming around his cock without a shred of warning. Your pussy clamping down around his knot, fingers stalling over your clit. A strangled cry cuts through the air. You haven't the slightest clue if it's coming from you or Rhett, but you can't bring yourself to care. Too lost in the spinning of the room and the clouds fogging your mind to even try to comprehend what you're hearing.

For once, the room is quiet—nothing but two labored breaths, so heavy that the wind howling outside ought to be jealous. 

Rhett's eyelashes tickle your neck with every blink, the only sign you've got that he's still alive, "Think ya almost killed me."

"You're one to talk," you have to crane your neck to get a better look at him, contentedly snuggled against you, eyes blue as can be. Not a shred of werewolf left in him, too tuckered out to show its face any longer. 

"Careful," it's the start of the emptiest threat you've ever heard, "the moons still high."

The pillow has a higher chance of killing you than he does. 

"You haven't eaten me so far," teasing, letting your fingers dart down his naked spine. He shivers, jerking up onto his forearms all of a sudden.

His knot is already beginning to go down, makes it easy for him to draw his hips backward. Pressure builds for the briefest of moments, and with a soft 'pop,' he slips out of you entirely. Like a damn has burst, his cum begins to spill from your abused cunt, running down your skin and staining the comforter below. 

You really should get up and throw the sheets in the washer before anything can begin to dry, or worse, leave behind an impossible-to-remove stain. But you're too focused on Rhett, rolling over onto his back, sweaty chest heaving. The kind of thing that you cant resist from reaching out and touching, your palm sliding along his warm stomach, feeling the way it rises and falls in tune with his chest.

"Are you rubbin' my belly like 'm a dog?" He asks, through that lazy smile, all half-lidded eyes and sleepy muscle. Even now, you can't bring yourself to believe that there's a single vicious bone in his body, big and strong as it may be.

"Should I stop?" You suppose you already know the answer to your question; he'd be kicking up a bigger fuss if he didn't like it.

His head shakes, and even that looks like too tremendous of a task for him. "No, no, I ain't sayin' that." 

Instead, his hand rises to cover yours, following along as you rub up and down, gradually working your way higher and higher, from his belly button to that proud bull tattoo. A quiet growl rolls out of his chest when your thumb dares to swipe over one of his nipples, the closest thing he can get to purring. 

But you're not done roaming. Wandering even further up, across his sweaty neck and up to his scruffy cheek. It's been far too long since the last time you've gotten to do this. Feeling the soft drag of his stubble under your touch, the way that he dares to twist his head and nip at your palm when it ventures close to his mouth. Every gentle bite is soothed with a kiss, peppering across your wrist and fingers. 

"I suppose I should take that collar off of you," musing mostly to yourself. The leather still rests around his neck, no doubt sticking uncomfortably to his clammy skin, the leash still hanging from the loop. 

"Wanna keep it on," stubborn to the very end, his foot kicking out, as if that can possibly add fuel to his argument, "jus' a little longer." 

Your fingers drip down, tracing the redness that's long since appeared, his skin rubbed raw and no doubt sore from the collar. "It's chafing your neck." A part of you supposes its your fault, for not buying one meant to be worn on skin. 

"But I like it," that bottom lip pokes out the slightest bit, pouting in the only way he knows how, "feels nice."

"It's gonna have to come off eventually," at the very least, you can unclasp the leash, tossing it off the edge of the bed with a surprisingly loud clatter. "We're both gonna need a shower here soon."

His head tilts, brows raised. "Who says?"

"Me," fighting back a smile. Whether or not you're doing a good job at it is anyone's guess. 

"Nope." Rhett's defiantly shaking his head, as if that can possibly change the fact that the sheets and your inner thighs are stained with his cum, the kind of mess that absolutely requires a shower. "No, you don't." 

All of a sudden, he's moving, rolling back on top of you before you can even begin to comprehend what he's up to. You're pinned like a damn note under a tack; try as you might, you can't get all one-hundred-something pounds of him to even budge. Practically trapped here on the bed, forced to endure his giggles and the nuzzle of his cold nose, burying its way back into the crook of your neck.

"You're not gonna move, are you?" Why do you keep asking questions that you already know the answer to? 

"Nope," Rhett's pressing a kiss to a vein in your neck, like it will do anything to make this easier for you," the shower can wait a lil longer."

Admitting defeat has never been sweeter. You'd really love to climb into the shower and stand beneath the warm water with him, taking turns scrubbing each other down and rinsing the soap from his hair, but you don't mind this. Arms looping around his broad shoulders, hugging him close like some big, oversized teddy bear. 

In the back of your mind, a tiny light kicks on. "Will you agree to move if I promise to get you a softer collar?"

"They make those?" His voice is muffled by your neck, words tickling as they vibrate through you.

Humming, you tap your fingers against the solid bone of his shoulder. "You can even pick out the color." 

"Well, why didn't ya mention that before?"He's up on his haunches in the blink of an eye. Grinning from ear to ear, he reaches for your hands, giving them a tug, urging you to sit up. "C'mon!" 

The sheets. 

You need to get the sheets off the bed, but you've got no choice. Rhett's got a hold of you, and he's not letting go. Laughing, kicking up the biggest fuss he can possibly manage, eyes shimmering with pools of gold as he pulls you up onto your feet. Uncaring of the mess that is being left behind, too busy herding you in the direction of the bathroom. 

The water is already running when you realize you've forgotten to grab clothes, arriving in the form of an offhanded thought whilst you were watching Rhett test the temperature with his foot. But he's beating you to that, too, eagerly darting off into the hallway like an oversized puppy. Doesn't even bother to wipe the water off his foot, leaving behind a trail of water droplets that shimmer in the light.

They kind of look like the stars you left on the barn floor. Twinkling little galaxies, just waiting to be discovered.

"Watcha lookin' at?" Rhett's already rounded the corner again, tossing those offhandedly chosen clothes in the direction of the sink. Whether or not he remembered to grab underwear is anyone's guess. 

Your shoulders rise and fall with a shrug, "just a mess on the floor." 

He'll help you make a bigger one after you two step out of the shower. 

[sebsxphia]

So I saw that werewolf post you reblogged.

Tell me why I’m thinking of werewolf Rhett going into heat and the only one there to try and satisfy his heat is his human crush who he has been lusting over for a long time and she doesn’t know what she’s getting into. Bonus points if this is the first time she’s ever slept with Rhett and he is completely taken over with the need to sate his wolf.

It’s just primal breeding, and as he grunts and growls over her, he’s too lost in the feeling to care if it’s too much. The stretch is more painful than pleasurable and yet even as she claws at his arms, she completely submits to him.

Thinking about completely feral, dangerous, werewolf Rhett just has me all kinds of hot and bothered.

“Go ahead and cry baby, you’re still going to take it all.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 jesus fucking christ dear anon i’m gonna loose my god damn mind!!!!!! you’re still going to take it all!!!!!! fuck me!!!!!!

ohhhh god, can you just imagine. you think you can take it, you know this is what rhett has to do and you accept it. when you first see his cock, it’s erect and big sure, but you can take it. it isn’t until you feel it growing even larger in size inside of you, that you start to whine.

“is it… is it growing, rhett?”

“shh, shh. just take it, darlin’. your tight pussy feels s’ fuckin’ good. can’t believe i waited this long.”

“rhett! rhett! it’s too big, i—”

“go ahead and cry, baby, you’re still going to take it all.”

feral, dangerous, werewolf rhett is so bad and i need him. thank you so much for this incredible thot dear anon! 💌

[rhett-hammersmith]

“Even a man who is pure in heart, And says his prayers by night, May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms, And the moon is full and bright.”

– Curt Siodmak

..

[kaluwa-del-conte]

Werewoof Rhett 🐺🌕

[Click image for better quality]

[monstersandmaw]

It is now time for my bi-annual reading of Rhetts' story, I cannot put into words how that story makes me feel, thank you for writing it Ghosti.

(Also, feel free to just ignore this little part but do you know when you'll be selling on Etsy again?)

Ohhhh thank you!!!! I'm so glad you enjoy his story so much! (*panics about typos etc.*)

Etsy, I'm hoping to get up and running again by October 1st 2023... Just need to get my shit together and finish off a bunch of stuff. Was there anything in particular you were hoping to see on there, because that will really help me prioritise what goes up... I'm also gonna be putting some of my chainmail jewellery up there too, so it won't be just resin.

[moonstalkerwerewolf]

Happy New Year! Here's to 2023 being a decent one! 

Artwork and characters © @moonstalkerwerewolf.Please DO NOT repost or remove the source and comments!

[vivwritesfics]

I heard through the grapevine that your request were open only till tomorrow night so

Werewolf!carlos 🤭🤭 fluff

Y/n constantly teasing Carlos because he always looks like a confused puppy 🐶 and he’s like Amor im a dangerous apex predator not a puppy.

babe ily (also i was gonna write this, read THIS by @lewmagoo, fell in love with it and... this happened) (if you guys are as obsessed with Rhett Abbott as me plspls read it) (even if not still read it lol its so fucking good)

warnings: light smut

Carlos was insanely protective over his family, over his pack.

His father was the head of the family, the leader of the pack. His life centred around protecting them. He'd raised his son with the same mind set, to protect his sisters, protect his mother.

He was vicious, but only when he needed to be. To anybody outside of the pack, Carlos wasn't calm, but he was in control, ready to lash out at a moments notice. Most avoided him at all costs.

But she didn't know. She didn't even know what he was when they first met. Her not being afraid of him was what drew him in. She was bold and Carlos wanted to know more.

He couldn't stay away from her. From the first time he took her to his bed, pushed his cock through her folds while she whined out his name, he knew he didn't want to. He wanted to keep her caged in his arms, his body moving against hers, for as long as he could.

It wasn't clear when they fell into a relationship. Carlos just didn't want her being with anybody else. They'd never said they were anything other than having sex, but every time a guy approached her, her was stride up to them, a growl leaving his throat (the guy always backed off after that).

Carlos was still insanely protective over his family, over his pack. She had become a part of that pack, even if she didn't realise it. (She had learnt what he was, had watched him transform right before her very eyes.)

Lando was his best friend. He'd been accepted by his family, accepted into his pack. Carlos couldn't help but treat him like a pup sometimes. In the occasions where Lando was acting childish (and not even in a bad way), Carlos could grab the back of his neck, calming him down instantly.

But there were some things that Lando said, usually attempting to speak Spanish, that had Carlos continued. Soy lago, Lando had said. Carlos's brows furrowed as he stared at his muppet friend. Lando repeated it again. When that sweet, confused look deepened on Carlos's face, she couldn't stop herself from laughing.

His girlfriend, the woman he was mated to, couldn't stop herself from laughing as she watched their interaction. A playful growl left Carlos's lips as he looked at her. But then he turned his attention back to Lando. "I am a lake?" He translated, incredibly confused.

She snorted, holding her stomach.

Suddenly Carlos was standing. He strode over to where she sat on the couch. He nipped at her neck, let out a noise from his throat (a cross between a growl and a whine, one that had her giggling).

"I'm sorry, my love," she said and kissed his nose. "You just... you look so cute when you're confused."

He glared, but she knew it wasn't serious. "I'm not cute," he insisted.

If she ran her hands through his hair, she knew she'd get him to purr like a cat. But she held back. Not in front of Lando (or he'd never live it down). "Carlos, you're fucking cute," she said. "You're like a sweet little puppy."

He stood up straight, her arms slipping from around his neck as he pulled away from her. "A sweet little puppy?! Cariño, I'm a dangerous predator, a killer, not a puppy!"

Her eyes went wide as she stared at him. "Could you say you've got... the skin of a killer?"

His face dropped as he stared at her. But his eyes flashes as he stared at her. "You're gonna get it now."

[lewmagoo]

a curse i cannot lift | rhett abbott

description: in which everything he holds dear is ripped from his grasp

warnings: 18+ only, werewolf au, pregnancy, allusions to sex, perry abbott assaulting people (idk how else to word that lol), murder, violence, blood, kidnapping, angst, werewolves are unfairly targeted in this world

pairing: werewolf!rhett abott x f!werewolf!reader

listen to the playlist here

notes: this is part of 'the wolf' series! you technically don't have to read the first part but it'll make more sense if you do. access the first part here. access the series masterlist here

dedication: to @lovinglyeternal, without you this series wouldn't have been born. also dedicated to @bro-ooke ; thanks for beta reading this for me!

From a young age, Rhett Abbott had been taught that there was no greater honor in life than to obtain a mate. In wolf culture, finding one’s mate was a fateful, sacred occurrence. It was the joining together of two souls as one entity.

And he had found that oneness when he found you. The moment you walked into his life, his entire world changed. His fierce loyalty had always been dedicated to his family, but when the two of you joined your bloodlines, his loyalties changed. 

It wasn’t that he’d turned his back on his family. Far from it, in fact. But they no longer came first. It was you that came first, above all others. Together, you were responsible for loving and protecting each other. You had made that pledge to one another on your wedding day, a blood oath that was unbreakable and would withstand the test of time. 

Rhett had heard stories of the sacrifices mates were willing to make just to protect one another. But he’d never fully understood the magnitude of such a thing until he had a mate of his own. Sometimes it scared him, and made him feel a little wild, knowing the lengths he would go to to protect you. 

But he wasn’t alone, because you were just as territorial over him as he was of you. You had one another’s backs, and swore to each other that you would keep the other safe. However, he would one day find himself unable to fulfill his part of that promise to you, all because of the foolish actions of one man. And those actions would result in Rhett losing you. 

But hell hath no fury like a wolf whose mate is stolen from him. And when Rhett Abbott’s fury was unleashed, no one would walk away unscathed. 

Neither of you could have ever imagined your lives would be turned upside down. You had only just begun your mateship together. You had made a home for yourselves on Abbott land - an old barn at the edge of the property that Rhett had converted into a living space for the two of you and the family you would soon create together.

Life together was sweeter than you ever could have imagined. From the moment you met him, you felt an all-consuming sense of peace, knowing this was who you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. He was the one that had been formed for you by the cosmos before either of you was even born. A collection of burning, blinding, brilliant stars all forged together into one beautiful man with ocean-blue eyes. 

But, even for mated werewolves, life still had its difficulties. One’s hardships didn’t miraculously disappear once one found their mate. In fact, the joining together of both of your packs posed its fair share of brand-new issues. 

Particularly, the issue of keeping secrets. 

The Abbott family was very secretive. There were things weaved through the fabric of their family history that Royal had done his best to bury. Chief of those secrets was the fact that the land they lived upon was not their own. 

Historically, werewolves were not treated like high-class individuals. In fact, they were often treated like the scum of the earth. The bottom of the barrel. Humans were afraid of their wild tendencies, and this resulted in irrational, widespread fear. 

The wolf community had fought long and hard to obtain equal rights, and after a seemingly never-ending battle, they had finally made some headway. Laws had been put in place, protecting werewolves and their families from discrimination and inhumane treatment. 

Laws had also been put in place against hunting werewolves. These laws had been passed in all fifty states before you or Rhett were even born. The werewolf hunting business had once been very successful, but these days, hunters were almost non-existent. Hunting and killing werewolves was now considered a federal crime. 

You were of the belief that hunting for sport had been eradicated. The elders in your pack had lived through the days of the hunters, and had seen the laws passed forbidding hunting. They all believed the worst of it was behind them. 

But little did you, or your pack, know that there was a family of hunters right in the very town you were living in. A prestigious family at that, one whose money was tainted by the blood of hundreds of innocent wolves.

The Tillerson family had been hunting for centuries. The only reason they decided to stop was all thanks to a little truce made with Royal Abbott.

Long before either of his boys was born, Royal had struck up a deal with Wayne and Patricia Tillerson. The Abbotts were to remain on a specified plot of land. As long as they held up their end of the bargain, the Tillersons would not harm a single hair on any of their heads. But if the Abbotts or their future offspring tried to move to unapproved plots of land, they were fair game. 

The reason for this was that they didn’t want werewolves sullying the reputation of Wabang. It was a beautiful town with rich land and even richer oil wells. Werewolves would only drive away tourists and potential buyers that might come through seeking land and agricultural gain. 

So, Royal and his wife settled on that specified plot of land, and it became known as the Northeast Wyoming Wolf Reservation. After that, all was seemingly fine and dandy for decades. until your pack came along. 

Your pack originally left your hometown because tensions were rising with a neighboring pack. Your family had every right to live there, but the other pack harbored animosity against all of you, and instead of enduring an all-out war, your family, namely your alpha, decided it best to move elsewhere for the safety and well-being of the pack. 

So, you found yourselves in Wabang, Wyoming. You joined forces with the Abbott pack, and in a twist of wonderful fate, you met Rhett, the son of Royal, which proved to you that you were always meant to come here, because in any lifetime, in any universe, you would always find him. 

Royal was the alpha of the Northeast Wyoming Pack, which wasn’t much to speak of, as it was only him and his family. Royal was old and tired. When your pack came along, and it became clear that you and Rhett were to be mates, Royal willingly gave up his alpha status, because there could only be one alpha over a pack.

He allowed your uncle, Malakai, who was already the alpha of your own pack, to take leadership of the now-conjoined pack. Royal was willing to wash his hands of all of it, and it struck you as odd at first. What wolf willingly gave up their statues like that? But It would all make sense when you eventually learned of his motives. He didn’t want to be the one held responsible if anything happened to the pack. He knew if the Tillersons ever targeted the pack, the responsibility of protecting them would no longer fall upon himself. It would fall upon Malakai. And any wolf who was incapable of protecting their pack would face consequences from the National Werewolf League.

But there was, of course, the fact that Royal hadn’t been honest with your family from the beginning. He had welcomed you into the reservation, allowing you to settle there and make homes for yourselves. He had given over his alpha status. For all intents and purposes, he seemed genuinely happy to welcome your ragtag group into the fold. But he never bothered to warn you that if any of you decided to live elsewhere, outside of the reservation, you might just encounter some hunters. 

Rhett hated that his father refused to tell the truth. Royal had even made his family swear they wouldn’t say anything. His reasoning was that it might cause a full-blown massacre if word got back to the Tillersons that the wolves were trying to rebel against the guidelines put in place. 

While other state governments recognized werewolf hunting as illegal, the Tillersons had a particularly close relationship with the governor of Wyoming, and the leader of the state had essentially promised that he would look the other way if the wolves violated this agreement and ended up dead. He was just as money hungry as the Tillersons, and he harbored a hatred for werewolves. He was in agreement that the wolves were bad for business and was perfectly content to get rid of them if it meant protecting the state. 

While Rhett understood his father’s fear, he believed it was wrong and dangerous not to tell your pack the truth. So, in the early days of your marriage, he finally decided that he could no longer sit on this secret and potentially allow it to put a rift in your marriage, or result in your family being harmed. He wanted to reveal everything to you.

So, one night, he called for a family meeting with just your pack. He had already revealed the truth to you privately, and together, you had agreed that it was only fair to inform the others. So he stood before your family that night and explained to them that they were not as safe as they thought they were. 

It took guts for Rhett to go against his father like that. In your eyes, by putting the good of the pack before everything else, he displayed true alpha qualities, and something in you made you believe that someday in the future, he had what it took to take on the role as the new alpha of your pack.

But until then, there were things that needed to be sorted through. Such as the fact that there were hunters in your midst. Your family took the news better than you were expecting, but they were, of course, angry about being lied to. 

“But hunting is illegal. How the hell are there even still hunters around?” One of your cousins, Jace, asked. 

Rhett sighed. “The Wyoming government doesn’t give a shit about us. The Tillersons have the governor by the balls, he’ll look the other way if wolves end up dead.”

“We could report it to the League.”

“Y’ could,” Rhett replied, “I don’t know how much good it’ll do ya. They’d need proof that the Tillersons were actively hunting wolves. And so far, they aren’t. They’ve kept their noses clean for years. Without proof, the League won’t do anythin’.”

Finally, Malakai, the alpha, spoke up. “This is why your dad gave up his alpha status and let me keep mine when we joined packs, isn’t it? So none of the responsibility would fall on him.”

Rhett grimaced, nodding slowly. “I think so. But you’ll have to talk to him about that. Like I said, he didn’t want me t’ tell any of you. He was tryin’ to avoid a war with the Tillersons. If we start violatin’ our agreement with them, they might get trigger-happy.”

A murmur went through the pack. They didn’t like this situation, but at the moment, there was nothing that could be done. As long as everyone followed the contract put in place, there would be no trouble. And for the time being, it seemed as if nobody had a choice in the matter. Until another course of action could be figured out, things would remain exactly the way they were. 

Rhett felt awful to have to break such news to the family. But in the end, you quietly assured him that he’d done the right thing. “I know going against your dad wasn’t easy. But I’m proud of you for making the right decision.”

“How come I still feel lousy about it?” He grumbled. 

“It’ll pass,” you assured him. 

And it did. 

After that moment of honesty, his relationship with your family deepened. They all respected him for what he’d done. He felt loved and accepted in a way he never had before. He found a family that loved him for him. Not for what he could do for them. Not under any conditions. They just loved him. And he could hardly fathom why, but he was grateful. 

But above all else, the purest of loves he’d ever felt was your love. Undying, withstanding the rest of time. You adored him, you would lay down your life for him, and he, you. Sometimes the realization stole the very breath from his lungs. Being with you just felt right. He was no longer held down by the binding loyalty he had to his own family. While he still remained loyal to them, you came first, before anyone else. 

He made a pledge in his heart, determining that when the two of you had children of your own, he would never put them through what he’d had to endure as a child. A ‘tough love’ father who thought men displaying emotion was weak, and a mother who ultimately loved her children, but her loyalty to her husband overshadowed them, and made them feel like they were not as important. 

Rhett would love his child unconditionally and allow them to express their emotions without fear of judgment or consequence. He would be gentle and forgiving and kind, because children deserved such mercies.

As fate would have it, he would one day receive that opportunity.

After your marriage, it didn’t take long for you to fall pregnant. With the way you went at it together during your first heat, there was no doubt in your mind that it would result in conceiving a child. And sure enough, a little while after that initial heat cycle, it happened. 

Funnily enough, it was Rhett who figured it out before you even came to the conclusion yourself. And it was all because your scent had changed. 

Between werewolves, one’s mate was attracted to them by scent. A mate’s scent was unique and intoxicating to the other. Neither of you would ever forget the first time you caught the eachother’s scent, when you initially met. It was overwhelming and all-consuming. 

But now, something was different. 

Your scent had changed. That intoxicating, spicy, sweet scent you emitted, for his senses only, had changed into something lighter. Sweeter. Almost like cotton candy. It caught his attention one morning as you were getting ready for the day.

“Stop,” he spoke, his tone low and even. He’d caught you by the arm, his large hand gentle against you.

You smiled curiously as he tugged you closer. “What?” You asked, a breathless giggle on your lips at his behavior.

“Y’ smell different.” He buried his nose against the side of your neck and inhaled deeply. It tickled, but you remained still, watching curiously as he trailed his nose lower, intent on finding the source. He froze for a moment, only to quickly drop to his knees before you. There, he nuzzled your abdomen, breathing in again. 

A look of tender amazement softened his features, and he gasped, lifting his hand to press over your tummy. Then his gaze flickered up to meet your own. There were tears in those bright eyes. “You’re carryin’ my pup,” he whispered. 

Your own eyes widened, and you lifted your hand, covering your mouth in surprise. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, because you had been hoping this would happen. But you were still overcome with wonderful, all-encompassing elation. 

You laughed for joy, kneeling on the floor with Rhett and throwing your arms around his neck. “A baby! We’re having a baby!” You cried happily.

But he leaned back, a strange sense of wonder illuminating his features. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a sweet smile. “We’re havin’ a daughter,” he whispered in response, throat tight as tears glimmered in his eyes. 

You stared at him in amazement. “H-how…?”

“Your scent. When Rebecca was pregnant with Amy she had that same kinda scent. Like pink cotton candy. Or maybe bubble gum. You smell the same.”

That revelation pulled a musical laugh from you, and you threw your arms around your husband again, bubbling with an excitement that warmed your belly like fizzy champagne. 

“

Laughing with you, Rhett leaned back, nuzzling his nose against your own before he kissed you fervently. You melted into him, bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. 

“I knew it wouldn’t be long before I put a pup inside ya,” he murmured against your lips, mouth hot on yours. 

You smiled into the kiss. “I knew it, too.”

He pulled back to fully admire you. “My beautiful mate,” he murmured in adoration, splaying his palm over your abdomen. “Mother of my child.”

He spoke with such reverence, but beneath it was a possessive air that made you shiver. You were his. He was yours. Your hearts belonged to each other, intertwined by the Fates themselves. 

“Love you,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself lean into his warm touch. 

“I love you too, little wolf.”

You relished in that quiet, intimate moment together, overjoyed that you were finally starting your own family. 

There were a few select moments in your lifetime that you would consider the best moments of your entire life. Discovering that Rhett was your mate was one of them. Your marriage to him was another. And finally, learning you were expecting a baby was the cherry on top. 

You couldn’t hide your happiness if you tried. As mates, it was your shared dream to further your bloodline. It was considered the highest honor in werewolf culture. You were teeming with excitement, eager to reveal the news to the rest of the pack. 

It wasn’t easy to hide, as it was. They would be able to sniff it out no matter how much you tried to hide it. So you didn’t bother hiding it at all. That very day, you shared the news with your families, receiving an emphatic “I knew it!” From your mother, and an excited “I can’t wait to have a baby cousin to play with!” From Rhett’s niece Amy.

That night, a grand celebration followed, and you swore that you didn’t stop smiling once . Oh, how your life had changed. After you announced it to your loved ones, you were happily thrust into the process of making preparations to welcome your little one into the world.

This, of course, included visits to your pack doctor, Rose Tenpenny. You had known Rose your entire life. She was a skilled pack healer and midwife who subscribed to ancient remedies and medicines, the knowledge of which had been passed down to her from her mother, and her mother’s mother before her. There was no one else you’d rather have look after your and your baby’s health than her. 

You were on cloud nine as baby preparations followed. The women of the pack got together to make a memory quilt for your baby. All the men set to work building furniture for the nursery. And, best of all, Rhett took it upon himself to build a cradle for the babe. He was skilled with his hands, and he considered it the greatest honor to build this little bed for your child. He put so much love into the creation of that bed, and it touched your heart. 

Everything seemed so perfect. Too good to be true. It felt as if nothing could ever take this joy away from you. That is, until it all came crashing down like a mountain avalanche. 

Ever since your union with Rhett, you had had a rocky relationship with his brother, Perry. Rhett himself had a complicated past with the man, and since your marriage, he had distanced himself from his brother. He didn’t like the way Perry behaved toward you. Both of you knew it was because Perry harbored jealousy against Rhett. 

He was jealous of what you had. Jealous that his little brother had a mate and he didn’t. But the reason Perry didn’t have a mate was because of his own stupidity. He had tried to force it to happen on his own rather than waiting for fate. He fell for a girl named Rebecca. She wasn’t his mate, but he insisted she was. Claimed everyone else didn’t know what they were talking about. 

Perry had somehow manipulated Rebecca into believing they were mates. Or, at least, from what Rhett could see, she just went along with it to keep Perry happy. If she wanted to leave, the intention was dashed when she fell pregnant with his child. 

She made the decision to stick it out and see if a baby would change Perry’s demeanor. But it didn’t. In fact, it seemed that he only got worse after Amy was born. Rebecca put up with it for the first seven years of Amy’s life, and finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She disappeared into the night, seemingly without a trace. 

Perry insisted something had happened. That she would never leave of her own free will. Someone had to have taken her. Rhett, however, believed that she did leave on her own. 

You knew things had to be bad for her to leave her own child behind. That went against every instinct of a mother wolf. It made you wonder if there was more to the story. If she’d left with the intention of coming back for her child, but she had met an untimely demise in the process. You supposed you would never receive an answer to that question. 

Perry delusionally claimed that he could still feel her out there. Between mates, it was a natural occurrence to be able to feel the other’s presence. And many times, when one was in danger, the other could sense it. Perry insisted he had this with Rebecca, but you knew he didn’t. He had no idea where she was because she wasn’t his to begin with. 

In the meantime, his jealousy against his brother only continued to fester. Their relationship had already been strained as it was, but since Rhett had brought you into the picture, it was even worse. The only good thing to come out of it was your relationship with young Amy. 

She was sweet as pie and even at her age, she knew the way her father behaved was wrong. It broke your heart that she had to deal with such things, but she didn’t let it slow her down, or change the way she felt about you and Uncle Rhett. 

Perry attempted to remain civil while Amy was around, but there were times when he just couldn’t help but run his mouth and get himself in trouble. It had happened on numerous occasions, to the point where Rhett didn’t like bringing you around him 

And after you found out you were expecting, your mate grew all the more protective of you. This primal need to keep you safe burned in his belly, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to harm or disrespect you. 

But no matter how protective of you he became, Rhett always had full control over his wolf at all times. He could shift at will, and even when he was intensely angry or upset, he could still control the shift and keep himself from going off the rails. But Perry did not have that same control, and because of this, Rhett was always on guard when he was present around you. 

His older brother was notorious for losing his temper. Rhett had seen it time and time again. Perry had always been like this. Even as a young boy. 

When werewolf pups are born, they are born entirely human, and do not yet possess the ability to shift. That ability usually comes at around ten years of age. 

And Perry gained that ability like clockwork on his tenth birthday. Teaching him how to control the shift was a beast in and of itself for Royal and Cecilia. They struggled like hell to help him learn how to shift at will rather than involuntarily. 

Around that time, Rhett was still very small. It proved incredibly difficult to raise a little one and train a brand-new wolf. Some things fell by the wayside. Rhett did not receive the love and attention he so desperately needed during that moment in time. It was hard for him to get acclimated as he grew older. 

But he saw the way Perry was, how wild his wolf was, and he decided that when his own wolf came in, he would be nothing like his brother. He would learn control. 

And he did. Royal and Cecilia hoped Rhett’s ability would rub off on Perry. But, unfortunately, it did not. Instead, Perry got into trouble, and Rhett was always lumped in because he followed his brother around everywhere. 

But the worst moment of all was the day Perry lost control at school. 

There had always been high tensions between the Tillersons and the Abbott brothers. The three boys had an innate hatred of wolves, a prejudice ingrained within them thanks to their parents. Luke and Billy weren’t particularly aggressive toward Perry and Rhett. But Trevor? He and Perry especially hated each other. 

Trevor was known for mouthing off. He’d mouth off at his parents, at his teachers, at innocent passersby in the school hallways. He was a loose canon, and it was only a matter of time before he went off on the wrong person. 

Trevor foolishly decided he was going to mess with Perry that day. He caught him in the empty hallway as Perry and Rhett were leaving school. He started jeering Perry, daring him to “go werewolf” on him. Rhett, who was only twelve at the time, and significantly younger and smaller than Trevor and Perry, tried his best to pull Perry away. 

But it was no use. The situation escalated until Perry was lunging, and suddenly, there was screaming, and Trevor was on the floor, clutching at his throat as blood poured from a slash wound caused by Perry’s claws. 

“What did you do?!” Luke shouted as he knelt beside his wounded big brother. “You’re dead, Abbott! You hear me?! Dead!” 

A teacher heard the commotion and came out, only to realize in horror what had happened. 911 was called, as were the Abbott and Tillerson parents. Perry was kept locked in a classroom, alone, until further help could arrive. 

In the end, Trevor’s wound was only superficial, and he would go on to make a full recovery. However, he would walk away with a permanent scar on his neck. Four claw marks, acting as a permanent reminder that he’d been attacked by a wolf. 

The offense should have garnered a heavier punishment. Patricia Tillerson was out for blood. She wanted to kill Perry for what he’d done to her son. But Wayne had a different approach. As money hungry as he was, he was fine to settle on a payment for what had happened. 

Royal paid the Tillersons a hefty sum of money, which nearly drove his own family into financial ruin. They were already struggling to stay afloat as it was, and giving away that big of a sum of money set them back severely. But if he paid the sum, the hunters would leave the Abbotts alone. 

So he gave them the money, and after that, the Tillerson boys were enrolled in a private school the next town over, and the instance was swept under the rug. 

Angry over how it was handled, and the lack of justice for her son’s pain, Patricia threatened to leave Wayne. He told her to go, but his condition was that she couldn’t take her boys with her. He refused to let his sons go, and he threatened blackmail if she went ahead and took them anyway. So she left, alone and angry, determining that one day, she would gain the retribution she sought. 

It took many years, but that opportunity finally presented itself when Wayne Tillerson dropped dead. 

You’d heard about his death. The whole town had. But you didn’t care in the least. As far as you were concerned, one less werewolf hunter in the world, the better. But that still left three of his sons. 

When Wayne was alive, he refused to let anyone but his lawyer and his accountant read any legal or financial papers. He didn’t let his sons get involved. But when his health started failing him, it became necessary for the boys to step in. As the eldest, Trevor took that mantle upon himself. 

But it wasn’t until his father died that he really started doing a deep dive into the seemingly endless paperwork. Financial statements, property deeds, the whole nine. For Trevor, it was the property deeds that caught his attention. Specifically the deed for the land on which the Abbotts lived. 

He noticed an interesting little tidbit. It appeared that the property line had been mistakenly marked, and needed to be moved back a significant distance. But it just so happened that that specific plot of land was where you and Rhett lived. 

Driven by greed, Trevor took the deed to the family lawyer, insistent upon getting the go-ahead to deliver the news himself. It wasn’t difficult, and soon, he was headed right for the reservation, smug as could be, ready to deliver the blow to your family. 

However, when he came lumbering up to your house and knocked loudly on the door, he received no answer. “Abbott!” He shouted, banging a little louder. But the house was empty. You and Rhett had left earlier that morning so you could go in for your monthly prenatal checkup with the pack doctor. You were both blissfully unaware that your lives were about to be turned upside down. 

Back at your house, Trevor was tempted to shove the legal paper he held in his hand in your mailbox, but his heart was set on delivering it in person. However, he saw the next best person to deliver it to when he caught a glimpse of Perry just down the way, saddling up his horse. 

A smirk tugged at the eldest Tillerson’s mouth. He brushed his fingers over the claw marks that scarred his neck. Maybe this could be his way of getting back at Perry for what he’d done to him all those years ago. 

So he marched right toward the stables, and when Perry saw him coming, he visibly tensed. He hadn’t seen Trevor in a long time. As volatile as Perry was, even he himself had no desire to get into it with the man. He knew he’d end up killing him if given the chance, so he kept his distance. 

Now, however, Trevor was coming right at him, and there was no way of keeping his distance any longer. 

“Hey, Abbott!” He called. 

Perry sighed. “What?”

“Any idea where that brother a’ yours is?”

Perry shrugged as he tightened the cinch on the saddle. “Fuck if I know,” he mumbled. 

“Well, I have a little somethin’ for him.”

“Huh, guess you’ll have t’ wait ‘til he gets back.”

“I figured I’d just give it to you instead, an’ you can pass the word along.”

Perry rolled his eyes, stepping back toward the stable when he realized he’d set his hat down inside. “I ain’t your messenger, Trevor. Just leave it at his doorstep or somethin’.”

“Thing is, I really wanted to deliver it in person,” Trevor continued, following Perry into the stable. “I want you to read it, too.”

Again, the Abbott brother rolled his eyes, whirling around to snatch the paper from Trevor. “Fine! I’ll give it to ‘im, if that’ll get you off our fuckin’ property.”

At those words, Trevor’s smirk turned into a wicked grin. “Actually, it ain’t your property.”

That caught Perry’s attention. “What?”

“Read it.”

With furrowed brow, Perry quickly unfolded the paper and his eyes skimmed over its contents. Heat flared in his chest. “This is fuckin’ bullshit.”

“You wish. It’s legit. Either you all move that fence of yours back, or you’ll get fined by the state. And you and I both know you ain’t got the money to pay that fine, since your daddy gave it all away to get us to keep our mouths shut about what you did to me when we were kids.”

That struck a chord. The heat in Perry’s chest grew hotter. “You’re just lucky it wasn’t worse,” he grumbled. 

Trevor scoffed. “So you’re saying I should be thankin’ you for not ripping out my throat?” He laughed heartily, though it was fake. “Fuck you, Abbott.” His first mistake was reaching out to shove at Perry. 

The wolf growled, his eyes flashing yellow. “Get your goddamn hands off me.”

“What are y’gonna do, hm? Kill me? Maim me?”

Perry got in his face. His body trembled as he fought to control his shift. But he had no control, because he’d never learned it. “You got five seconds to get the fuck outta here.”

But Trevor wasn’t afraid. He stood chest to chest, hunter to wolf. “Do it. I dare you. Then they’ll come lookin’ for me, and when they find out you killed me it’s over for you wolves. Is that what you want? To destroy all that civil rights shit your kind fought for?”

Perry seemed to consider his words, and Trevor nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have the balls.” And then, as he was prone to do, he had to add one last blow to his monologue. “Bet that’s why your wife left you. She realized you were a spineless fuckin’ co-”

He never did finish those words. In mere seconds, Perry was lunging, growling, out of control. And then, Trevor was on the hay-scattered floor, bleeding out, his throat slashed like it had been so many years ago. Except, this time, he wasn’t walking away alive. 

Perry stood over his body, his chest heaving, growling like a wild animal. The paper he’d been holding had fluttered to the floor, and the breeze blew it into a corner to be forgotten. 

Just like that, Trevor Tillerson was dead, and as the blinding red rage cleared from Perry’s vision, he realized what he’d done. He stood there, staring at the blood on his hands, and the blood on the floor, and he felt as if he was frozen in place, his feet fastened to the floor with concrete.

What should he do? He’d just killed a goddamn human. If news got out about this, it would be very, very bad, not just for the Abbott pack, but for the entire werewolf community. But Perry was very quickly beginning to panic, unsure of how to fix the egregious crime he had just committed. 

So he did the only thing he knew how. He scrambled out of that barn, climbed onto the back of his horse, and set off at a gallop to his father’s house just down the way. It was nearly lunchtime, so he knew that Royal would likely be home, in the kitchen, waiting as Cecilia prepared his lunch for him.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the sound of Cecilia humming as she readied the food. Until, suddenly, Perry came bursting through the door like a bat out of hell. She dropped the knife she was holding. “Good Lord, Perry!” She exclaimed.

Royal looked up, brows raised. And that’s when he saw the blood. Cecilia also noticed, and she put a hand to her mouth. “What on earth happened?!”

Perry looked at Royal, entirely ignoring his mother. “Dad, I need help.”

Just by looking at his son, Royal seemed to know what ‘help’ entailed. He stood from his seat, already moving to grab his hat from the peg near the door. 

“Royal, what-”

“I’ll be back soon, save me a plate,” he simply said as he followed his son out the door. 

Cecilia fought the urge to chase after them. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what that blood meant. And she’d picked up on a specific scent when Perry came in. A scent she knew, but was too afraid to admit it. The less she knew, the better. But she had a feeling she was going to find out what had happened sooner than later. 

Outside, Royal had a plan. “C’mere,” he said to his son, motioning him toward the garden hose. “First of all you need to wash this shit off so you don’t get it everywhere.”

Perry proceeded to scrub the blood from his hands, and then Royal led him to the truck. “You mind tellin’ me what the fuck happened?” He asked, voice low. 

Perry sighed, lowering his head. “Trevor Tillerson came snoopin’ around.”

“Yeah, I know that, I can fuckin’ smell him on you. How did it end with you covered in his goddamn blood?!”

So, Perry recounted what had happened. Every last detail. And as he spoke, Royal paced back and forth, his boots kicking up gravel as he did so. Once his son finished, he stopped, turning to look at him. “Alright then. Let’s fix this. Before your brother gets back. The less people are involved in this, the better.”

“You…you ain’t callin’ the sheriff?” Perry asked in disbelief. 

“I call the sheriff, not only do you go to jail, but it puts this whole fuckin’ pack in danger. I ain’t gonna let a group of humans run us outta our home. So we’re takin’ care of this ourselves.” He jabbed his thumb toward Perry’s horse. “Go take the tack off that horse and toss it in the back of the truck. You probably got blood all over it and that’s just gonna act as evidence if anyone comes snoopin’ around here.”

And so, the two Abbott men set about covering up the crime. They placed Trevor’s body in the back of the truck, they scrubbed the stables clean, and then, Royal instructed Perry to get into Trevor’s truck and follow after him. Royal drove his own truck and Perry followed him deep into the west pasture and as far up into the woods that the vehicles would allow them to. Then they carried Trevor the rest of the way until they came upon a good spot to bury him. 

All of this took quite some time, and by the time the body was in the ground, Royal breathlessly turned to Perry. “Drive the truck up to Lover’s Lake and let it sink.”

And so, Perry did what he was told. 

Just like that, the crime was covered up. Trevor Tillerson was six feet under, and the only two people in the world who knew about it were Royal and Perry. But it wouldn’t stay that way for long. 

In the meantime, you and Rhett were just arriving home from your midwife appointment, blissfully unaware of what had just taken place. You were purely, incandescently happy. Doctor Tenpenny had given you a gleaming bill of health. The tiny babe within you was growing just as she should. 

You were still quite early on, so you hadn’t begun to show yet. But that didn’t stop Rhett from resting his large hand against your belly from where he sat beside you in the rickety old GMC Sierra he drove. He was so very excited to be a father. The excitement sparkled in his eyes and you swore that blue had gotten impossibly brighter.

“I am so fuckin’ in love with you, little wolf,” he murmured once he’d thrown the truck into park. He leaned across the seat to kiss you sweetly. 

You smiled against his mouth before you replied. “I’m so fuckin’ in love with you too.”

“M’ sweet wife.” His thumb ran circles over your abdomen. “Can’t wait to see you all round with my pup.”

You hummed, eyes fluttering shut as you relished in his warm touch. “Soon,” you assured him. 

“I know. It’ll happen quicker than we can blink. Then we’ll be holdin’ our brand new baby girl.”

You kissed him again, unable to voice your feelings, because the words got caught in your throat. But that was okay, because no other words were needed. 

Soon, Rhett slipped away and rounded the truck to open your door for you, which you gratefully accepted. “I was thinkin’,” he said, his arm slung around you as you walked up to the house. “Maybe I’d stop in town and grab us some lunch? I gotta bring the horses in from pasture first but after that I’ll get goin’.”

“Oh, would you?! I’ve been craving fries from Lucinda’s!” You exclaimed. 

He smirked. “I know. As if you didn’t give me enough hints by sayin’ ‘I could really go for some fries!’ all mornin’,” he teased. 

“Sorry, I’m just starving,” you said with a laugh. 

“I’ll get ya your fries,” he assured you, “an’ a milkshake, too.”

Happily, you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” he said right back with a knowing glint in his eyes. 

You pushed at his chest as you shook your head at him. “Go tend to the horses, wolf boy.”

He stole another kiss from you, playfully swatting at your ass before he finally slipped away, allowing you to head back inside, your heart warm as you did so. 

He headed over to the stables, and when the grazing horses saw him they immediately perked up. Particularly his mare, Esmeralda. She trotted up to the fence, letting out an excited whinny. 

“Hey t’ you too, girl,” he said, reaching out to scratch her chin, her favorite place to receive pets. She eagerly searched his flannel pocket for treats, but came up with nothing. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Got tied up takin’ mama to the doc. I’ll bring ya somethin’ next time.” He kissed her muzzle, and then he pulled back to saunter over to the stable so he could pull the doors open. 

On his way up the lane, he caught sight of Perry approaching on horseback. But he noticed something a little off. The horse wasn’t saddled, nor was he wearing a bridle. 

“The fuck you ridin’ bareback for?” Rhett asked with a slight laugh, raising a brow at his brother as he got closer. 

“Cause I felt like it,” Perry mumbled as he slowed the horse and finally slid to the ground, boots kicking up gravel. 

“I’ve never seen you ride without a saddle in my life,” Rhett continued. 

“There’s a first time for everythin’,” Perry dismissed. 

Rhett eyed him. He seemed a little…off. Not like himself. “Per, you feelin’ alright?”

“‘m fine,” he snapped. 

Rhett sighed, shaking his head at his brother’s antics. He wasn’t sure what had gotten up his craw, but he decided it best not to ask questions. 

Until he stepped into the stable as Perry led his horse to his stall. A strange scent hit Rhett as soon as he crossed the threshold. Strong and chemical, like bleach. But there was something else, something underlying. He breathed in deep, his face comforting in confusion. 

“You smell that?” He called to Perry. 

His first clue as to something being wrong should’ve been that Perry froze. “I don’t smell anythin’,” he said as he opened the stall door. 

“Bullshit, it’s strong as hell,” Rhett countered. He stepped further into the building and breathed in. “I smell blood.”

Perry didn’t say a word, but just from his posture, Rhett knew he was lying. He never was good at hiding his guilt. As soon as he pulled away from the stall and moved to leave the stable, Rhett stepped into his path, blocking him. 

“Why the fuck does it smell like blood and bleach in my stable?” He demanded, voice low, gaze hard. 

Perry’s wide, brown eyes flickered away, looking everywhere but his brother’s face. He didn’t say a word, and it sent a flash of sizzling anger through Rhett, like a bolt of lightning. “Perry!” He barked. 

“Get outta my way, Rhett.”

“No! What did you do, huh?! Hurt one of my horses?!” Rhett wouldn’t stand for harm to come to any of his animals. He’d beat Perry to a pulp if he found out he’d hurt one. 

“I didn’t touch y’re fuckin horses!” Perry snapped. 

Rhett could hear how fast Perry’s heart was beating, pounding erratically against his rib cage. He was lying. “If it ain’t horse blood, then whose is it?”

A beat of hesitation. Then another. And soon, it became clear that Perry wasn’t going to say a word. Rhett growled angrily and finally stepped aside. “Get the fuck out.”

And he did. Perry hightailed it out of that stable, guilt weight at his shoulders. Rhett was going to get to the bottom of this one way or another. But for now, he had a group of restless horses to tend to. 

With a deep sigh, he rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck, and then proceeded to get the horses gathered and into the stable. Just to be safe, he checked each one over for any potential injuries. But they were all unharmed, as he’d expected. 

Rhett wasn’t stupid. He knew that the scent he’d caught wasn’t horse. It was human. This was someone he knew, because he recognized the underlying scent. But he didn’t want to say it out loud, didn’t want to admit who it was because then that would mean… surely his brother hadn’t killed someone, right? Perry was volatile at times but he’d never killed anyone. However, Rhett knew perfectly well what the man was capable of. 

He’d seen him lose his temper. He’d seen the way Perry couldn’t control his wolf. He was capable of killing. He was one step closer to going rogue and that thought made Rhett’s stomach turn. 

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that point. 

In the meantime, there were other things to tend to. Rhett decided he didn’t want to go snooping. He was afraid he would find something that he wished he never knew. So, he shook the thoughts out of his head and proceeded to get the horses situated. 

A little while later, he was finally making his way back to the truck, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. A shower sounded appealing, but his first order of business was, of course, picking up lunch for you. 

It was a thirty-minute drive into town, so by the time he returned, it had been over an hour that he’d been gone. In that time he’d tried to push the incident with Perry out of his mind. He knew that you would notice something was wrong, and he didn’t want to potentially drag you into whatever mess his brother had just made. You were meant to be enjoying this time as you prepared to welcome your little one, he didn’t want to put any undue stress on your shoulders. 

So he put his best face forward and sauntered into the house with milkshakes and bags of French fries in hand. You’d heard him pull up, and you eagerly hopped up off the couch, where you’d been reading a book that your midwife had given you. 

“I was about to start gnawing on the couch,” you remarked with a smile as you scurried up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for picking this up. You’re so good to me.”

“Anythin’ for you, little wolf,” he hummed. He never thought he’d turn into such a sap, but having a pregnant mate will do that to a guy. Not that he minded. You were worth getting sappy over. 

“You still gonna call me little wolf once our little is born?” You asked him as you settled at the kitchen table, eager to tear open your bag of fries. 

Rhett smiled as he sat across from you. “You’ll always be m’ little wolf. Even when we’ve got a little wolf of our own.”

His words warmed your chest. He made you feel so loved. You couldn’t wait to see that love translate into the way he handled your daughter. He was going to be a wonderful father, you just knew it. 

Your meal progressed with comfortable conversation, the two of you discussing your plans for the rest of the day, and what the schedule looked like tomorrow. It was a sort of domesticity that you loved. 

After lunch, it was back to business as usual. The day continued like any other, with nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. Rhett had even sort of forgotten about his encounter with Perry in the stable, and went about his work day like normal. 

By the time evening rolled around, everything seemed perfectly fine. Rhett came inside to shower, and you got dinner on the table like you usually did, one of your favorite records playing on the antique record player you kept in the living room. 

Rhett was still in the shower as you began setting the table, and you were interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up. Then there were hurried footsteps, and seconds later, the sound of pounding on your door. 

Brow furrowed, you set the plate you’d been holding onto the table, tuning in to the agitated voices of two men on your porch. Something was wrong. Wiping your hands on your apron, you strolled over to the door, rolling your eyes when the pounding came again. 

You pulled the door open to reveal Luke and Billy Tillerson. You stared at them in surprise. You’d heard of them plenty of times. You knew what the Tillerson name meant. But you’d never met them. Now here they were, standing right in front of you, and you could tell something was wrong. 

“Can I help you?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Abbott. Is your man home?” Luke spoke. He offered a charming smile, as if it fixed everything. 

“He’s busy. Why do you ask?”

The man shrugged. “Just need to ask him a couple questions, is all. We can wait right here for him.”

“We’re about to sit down to dinner. Can you come back tomorrow?” You offered. You got the sense that they suspected your husband of something. It made your heart quicken in your chest. 

Luke narrowed his eyes, still fighting to be polite. “Now would be preferable. Really gotta talk to him.”

“Well, like I said, we’re about to—”

Suddenly, there was a strong hand on your shoulder, and Rhett was gently pulling you back, placing you safely behind him as he stepped into the doorway. “Hope you ain’t botherin’ my wife,” he said. 

Luke raised a brow. “Botherin’ her? I was askin’ where you were. Mind steppin’ outside so we can talk?”

Rhett had a sneaking suspicion as to what this was about. So he turned to you. “Stay inside. I’ll be back in a minute.” He left no room for debate. 

Quickly, he stepped outside, pulling the door shut. He motioned for both men to follow him off the porch, leading them a little ways away from the house, hoping your enhanced hearing wouldn’t pick up on the conversation. 

 “What do ya want?”

“Trevor came up here earlier today. He hasn’t been home since.”

Rhett remained neutral in expression, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “Really? I didn’t see him. You sure he was here?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Came here himself to give you papers about the land you’re on.”

Rhett’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Papers? What papers?”

Behind his brother, Billy huffed. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with us.”

“No, I’m bein’ serious! What papers?!”

Luke folded his arms over his chest, shifting his weight to one foot. “He came up here around 9 o’clock this mornin’ to give you papers tellin’ you that you have to move the property line back. The land you’re on right now isn’t yours.”

Rhett felt his chest tightening. “I don’t know anything about any fuckin’ papers. But I do know this land belongs to my pack and you ain’t takin’ it.”

“Look, I’m not the one who wanted to kick you off the land. If it was up to me I wouldn’t really give a shit, as long as you all keep to yourselves. But Trev cares. He talked to the lawyer. Got him to put some papers together tellin’ you to move. You’re really tellin’ the truth when you say you never got the papers?”

“I didn’t get the damn papers. I never saw Trev. I was gone this mornin’ with my wife. Didn’t come back ‘til around 10:45. Then I brought m’ horses in from pasture and went into town. I didn’t see hide nor hair of Trevor the whole time and that’s the God-honest truth.”

Luke sighed deeply, nodding his head. “Alright, alright. I believe ya. Thing is, we haven’t been able to get ahold of Trevor all day. Somethin’ happened.”

Rhett could take a pretty good guess as to what had really happened. He was putting the puzzle pieces together in his head, and his blood was beginning to boil with rage. He was tempted to tell them to go ask Perry, but he held his tongue. Part of him feared what might happen if he blew the whistle. What would it mean for the pack? Even so, he kept himself calm and steady and refused to give away 

“Listen, if I hear or see anythin’, I’ll let you boys know. Until then, I’d like t’ have a nice dinner with my wife.”

It didn’t seem like Luke wanted to let it go, but he finally relented. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

He nodded at Billy, and the two brothers turned and walked back toward their shiny new truck. Rhett remained fixed upon the driveway, his arms crossed over his chest, making sure that they actually left. 

As soon as they were out of sight, he sighed deeply, bowing his head. He was torn. Should he confront Perry and try to get him to confess? Or should he just leave it? After all, the less he knew, the better. 

Rhett thought of you, and the daughter you were expecting. He didn’t want anything to endanger your future. What would happen if it got out that a wolf had killed a human? All eyes in America would be on their community. Years of rights that had been fought for could be threatened. 

Of course, that was the worst-case scenario. In reality, it could only end up being Perry who would pay for the crime. Maybe justice would be served fairly. But in his heart, Rhett knew that wasn’t the case. Trevor Tillerson had been looking for an excuse to run the wolves into the ground. Maybe he’d get his wish from beyond the grave. 

“Rhett?” Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to find you standing in the doorway of your home, a look of concern on your face. “What’s going on?” You’d only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. Your heightened hearing was very useful, but you had to really focus to be able to utilize it. You had thought it best not to listen to what the men were saying, even if you were curious. If Rhett told you to stay inside, you knew he must have sensed some sort of danger. 

He didn’t want to involve you in this any more than he had to. He worried that he might get pulled into it, and he didn’t want to take you down with him. He shook his head, letting out a sigh as he sauntered back to the porch. “Just…just don’t worry about it, alright? Let’s eat supper.”

“You’re not in trouble, are you?” You asked in fear. The prospect of hunters on your property made you uneasy. 

“Nah, nothin’ like that. It’s better if we don’t talk about it for now. Let’s just eat supper.”

So you dropped it, even though you didn’t want to. The way his features had gone tense told you not to keep pushing. If he wanted you to know more, he would tell you. 

Dinner continued as normal that night, but Rhett was quieter than he usually was, very clearly troubled by something. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” You reiterated as you stood at the sink washing dishes, with Rhett beside you drying them. 

“Darlin’, I’m askin’ you right now not to bring it up. I…I don’t like keepin’ things from you but I’ve gotta think this one over before I say anythin’. Understand?”

You nodded, turning your body to face him. “Okay. You’re just worrying me, is all.”

Rhett sighed softly and tossed his dish towel aside before he reached out, large hands resting on your hips and pulling you close. “I’ve gotta do what I have to to protect you and our pup. And that’s what I’m doin’ right now. Protectin’ you. And askin’ you to trust me.”

You placed your hands on his chest, meeting his gaze. “I do trust you.”

That was all he needed to hear. 

Over the next few days, he was still waging a war in his mind, trying to decide what to do. It was almost as if he was in denial. If he didn’t acknowledge Perry, if he didn’t confront him about the crime, it didn’t happen. Everything was fine. 

But as he was cleaning out the stalls in the stable one morning while the horses were out to pasture, he came across something very incriminating. A crumpled piece of paper shoved away in a corner of a stall, forgotten.

Curious, Rhett bent to grab it, straightening up and letting his pitchfork rest against his side as he opened the paper. He scanned the words printed across the page, and his stomach dropped. So this was what Luke had been talking about. 

Rhett stared at the paper, trembling in his grasp because his hand was beginning to shake from the anger bubbling up within him. This only confirmed what he suspected. But before he flew off the handle, he needed to get to the bottom of this. He needed to ask Perry what had really happened. 

So Rhett tucked the paper in the pocket of his jeans, set his pitchfork aside, put his hat back on his head, and set off toward the Abbott house up the lane. He walked with purpose, his eyes set hard ahead of him. 

He could see his brother and his father up ahead, both working on a repair in the corral fence that stood in front of the house. Royal was the first to catch sight of Rhett, and he nodded in silent greeting, curious as to why his son was in such a hurry. 

“Rhett,” he called out to acknowledge the younger man’s presence. 

But Rhett wasn’t there for Royal. “Can I borrow Perry for a sec?” He asked. His tone was urgent. He didn’t miss the way Perry went tense. 

“Can it wait?” Royal asked. “Gotta get this fence done, we got a new horse comin’ in today and it needs to be ready.”

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Rhett countered. 

Perry sighed, but relented, setting down the crowbar in his hands before he turned and stepped out from under the fence. Rhett was already moving, encouraging his brother to follow him as he walked away from the corral. 

When Rhett finally stopped, he pulled the piece of paper he’d found in the stable from his pocket. “Mind tellin’ me what this is?” He needed to hear it from his brother’s mouth. 

Perry went still as a statue, his face pale. That reaction sent fire through Rhett, and his grip tightened on the paper, crumpling the end. “What the fuck did you do?” He hissed. 

“N-nothin’!” Perry tried. 

“Bullshit! I want you to say it! What happened in my stable, huh?! The blood I smelled? Now this paper? I know Trevor Tillerson was up here the other day. Luke came lookin’ for him that same night. I didn’t wanna believe that you were capable of somethin’ like this, but maybe you are.”

Perry was hesitating. He’d gone dead silent, as if he was frozen in place. He didn’t know what to say. And that only served to piss Rhett off. 

“Talk to me, goddammit!” 

“He wouldn’t shut up,” Perry finally relented. “Kept runnin’ his mouth off and I just…I snapped.”

Rhett stared at him. Eyes wide. Chest heaving. He let those words wash over him, and they felt like searing acid on his skin. “You…snapped?”

“He said somethin’ about Rebecca and I just saw red! Next thing I knew he was on the ground covered in blood!” Perry was trembling. Tears were shining in his eyes. 

Rhett was vibrating. “You fucking killed him. In my stable.”

“Like I said, I just snapped!”

The younger Abbott could hardly bear to look at his brother. His head was spinning. Deep down he’d known Perry was guilty. That he’d killed Trevor. But now that he’d actually admitted it? It felt like a gut punch. 

“I can’t believe you…” Rhett trailed off, hands clenching at his sides. “No, I can believe it. You’re out of fuckin’ control, Per. This is serious, you hear me? You just put the whole pack in danger!” 

“I–” Perry started, but Rhett held up his hand. 

“No, y’know what? You’re gon’ make this right. You’ve got two days to clean up the mess you made. Either you go to the sheriff, or I will. And if I have to do it, it ain’t gon’ be pretty.”

He shoved the paper into Perry’s hands. Then he got in his face, chest to chest. “If they start goin’ after this pack, there ain’t gonna be a place safe in heaven and earth for you. And if you think I’ll protect you when they do, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

Then, Rhett turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Perry standing there in the driveway, staring down at the paper that had started it all. For the first time since he’d killed Trevor, the severity of the situation seemed to set in. He thought of Amy, his young daughter, and how this would affect her. If he lost her, he had nothing left. Could he really go through with confessing to this crime? Even if it meant losing what was left of his family? 

Rhett was a man of his word. If Perry didn’t confess, he would do it for him, just as he said he would. But Perry felt lost. Uncertain. His judgment was clouded by his own guilt. So he turned to his father again, asking for help, because he didn’t know what to do. Royal would have an answer. Surely he would. 

“I’ll talk to Rhett,” the Abbott patriarch assured his eldest son. “See if I can talk him off the ledge. I ain’t gonna let Amy lose you like she lost her ma, alright? She needs her daddy now more ‘an ever. I’ll fix this, son.”

But this was not something that could easily be fixed like a downed corral fence. It was a sinking ship with a cracked hull that no amount of sealant could repair. And whoever remained left on board would surely drown in the depths of the ocean.

In the meantime, Rhett was reeling. Now that he knew the truth, he worried that the Tillersons might show up on his doorstep again. And this time, he wasn't sure if he could lie. He was worried that they had begun to suspect him of having something to do with Trevor’s disappearance. He might soon be faced with the choice of staying quiet, or exposing his brother's nefarious deed just to save himself from being accused of it. He would not go to jail for something he didn’t do. He had a wife and a child to think about. 

And when faced with a choice between his mate and his brother, Rhett would always choose you. 

He hoped that Perry would do the right thing and confess to his wrongdoing. But if he made no move to fix the mess he made in two days’ time, Rhett would have no choice but to intervene. It was necessary for the good of the pack. 

However, things were already spiraling out of control quicker than he even realized. 

Just across town, on the Tillerson ranch, a sleek, black limousine was just pulling into the expansive driveway. Luke and Billy stood outside the house, waiting for the lone passenger to step out of the car. 

The driver came around and opened the door, and moments later, Patricia Tillerson gracefully emerged from the back of the limousine, her heeled boots kicking up dust as she did so. 

She stood there for a moment, reaching up to remove her sunglasses as she eyed her sons. “First your father. Now this?” She finally spoke. She had been in town a few short months ago for Wayne’s funeral. Now, here she was again, under an entirely different circumstance. “Have you made any headway into finding your brother?”

Luke shook his head. “We were waitin’ for you before we did anything else.”

Patricia sighed. “This whole time you could’ve been– you know what? Nevermind. Let’s talk inside.” She stepped past the two boys and made her way up to the large house, walking with purpose as she did so. 

Luke and Billy dutifully followed her. 

Patricia’s first stop was the liquor cabinet, where she poured herself a glass of brandy. Then she turned to her sons. “Tell me again what you’ve been doing to find Trevor?” Her gaze was hard. She didn’t think they’d been doing enough. 

“We…we went to the reservation the other day to ask around about him. Rhett Abbott claims he never saw him. I believe him, he’s an honest man, and–”

His mother scoffed. “Man? Luke, honey, he’s an animal. A savage beast, if you will. There’s no telling the lengths he’d go to throw you off his trail.”

“But Ma, I don’t think he was trying to throw us off,” Billy echoed, shaking his head. 

“Shows what you boys know about wolves. They’ll say anything to get off the hook. That fuckin’ pack had something to do with Trevor disappearing. And I pray to God it’s not the case, but they’ve more than likely killed him. Or worse, turned him into one of them. Either way, he’s dead. No son of mine will succumb to the werewolf curse. I’d sooner kill him than let him be turned.”

“So what do you want to do, then? You told me not to call the sheriff, so I didn’t. I’ve stayed silent about this, waiting for you to get here. The more time we waste, the less chance of finding him alive,” Luke pressed, motioning his arms impatiently. 

Patricia downed her brandy in one go. “If they have Trevor, they aren’t going to give him up easily. So we give them a little…incentive.”

Billy and Luke shared a look. “What kind of incentive?” Asked Billy. 

Their mother folded her arms over her chest, squaring her shoulders. “They took one of ours? We’re going to take one of theirs. We’ll interrogate ‘em while we’re at it, try to get some answers as to what really happened to Trevor.”

They were hunters. And Patricia the best of the best. It would be easy to get back at the Abbott pack. They just had to find the most vulnerable member. 

There were plenty to choose from. Between the little ones in your own family, and Amy on Rhett’s side, any number of those pups would be a good target. But Patricia Tillerson had done her research. 

It was Rhett’s portion of land they were after. And Rhett just so happened to have a mate. What better way to find his ultimate weakness than to steal the one he loved above all others? 

So, she instructed her boys to stake out the property. To track yours and Rhett’s whereabouts so they could discreetly step in and carry out their intended mission without him intervening. Because they knew, if he caught them, he would not let them go without a fight. And it was very likely that they would have to put him down if he came at them. 

How fortuitous it was that the very next day after they began their stakeout, you left the property to head into town, without Rhett. The only other person you had in tow was Amy, and she wasn’t a threat whatsoever. 

Luke shared a look with Billy. “Guess that’s our chance,” he remarked, and his younger brother nodded in agreement. 

So they followed you into town, sure to stay a good distance back so you didn’t suspect anything right off the bat. 

In the cab of Rhett’s truck, you and Amy were entirely unaware of the impending danger. You had a few errands to run in town, and Amy was always up for going on excursions with you. Although she had packmates her own age now, she had spent her whole life surrounded by adults, and had essentially been raised by her grandparents and Uncle Rhett, so it was a little difficult for her to integrate herself in with kids her own age. Even if those kids were also wolves like her. 

Besides, she’d had to grow up fast because of what had happened with losing her mother. Your heart ached for the part of her childhood that she’d lost, but she seemed to have adapted okay. Even so, you always made sure to include her whenever you had plans by yourself. She was always eager to spend time with you because she loved you for the way you loved her Uncle Rhett. 

“I’ve never seen him smile so much,” she’d told you, early on in your relationship with Rhett. “You make him so happy. I’m glad he found you.”

And from then on, a bond was formed between you and the little blonde girl. She didn’t have a mother, and it made your heart ache. So, in a way, you took on that role. You couldn’t fully raise her in the way her mother would, but you reached out to her and spent time with her as much as possible, in hopes of providing some sort of nurturing. 

And now there was a new baby on the way, and Amy was teeming with excitement at the prospect of welcoming a little cousin. You could tell she was going to be a big help to you once the baby finally came. She was already asking to babysit, when she got a little older, of course. 

Today, you were doing a little shopping to pick up some groceries for Cecilia for the family dinner that you were all having that night, and to buy odds and ends for the baby’s nursery. Amy was just bouncing with eagerness to help you pick things out. You also planned to take her out to lunch at the little diner in town, and you were going to try out the brand new cafe that had just opened. Wabang had little to no coffee shops at all, so a new one was the talk of the town. 

Amy didn’t drink coffee yet, even though Uncle Rhett once let her try some of the black coffee he always drank. She said it tasted like dirt water, and it turned her against coffee altogether. Instead, she was looking forward to having a strawberry banana smoothie as a treat to drink on the way home. 

Little did you know that you’d never make it home that day. 

You set about your errands without a care in the world, listening to Amy rattle off facts and highlights about the book she’d been reading lately. She talked your ear off, but you were perfectly happy to listen. 

You were unaware of the eyes watching you as you eventually crossed the street to stop at the butcher’s shop. Or when you finally ended the day by stopping at Half Moon Coffee. 

You didn’t notice anything until you were finally back on the road, headed for home. And this time, Luke didn’t bother trying to be inconspicuous. He followed you closely, and when you glanced in your rearview, you realized who was in that shiny new F150. 

Your stomach dropped, and you let your eyes flicker back to the road. Without saying a word to alarm Amy, you pressed the gas down, speeding up. Luke sped up as well. Your heart quickened in your chest. A feeling of ice cold dread settled in your gut, spreading throughout your extremities. 

“What’s wrong?” Amy asked beside you. She could sense your discomfort and hear your pounding heart. Although she had not yet developed the ability to shift into her wolf, her heightened senses had begun coming in clear and sharp. She picked up on things a lot quicker than she used to. 

“Nothing,” you lied.

“Are you sure? You’re scared.”

You knew you couldn’t lie to her. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye. “We’re being followed. I want you to grab my phone and call Uncle Rhett, okay?”

You knew Rhett would be able to sense that you were in danger. That was how it worked with mates. But you wanted Amy to call him so he was immediately aware of the situation and knew exactly where to find you. However, she never got the chance to call him, because in a split second, your assailant sped up, shot around you, and then, several feet ahead of you, slammed on his brakes. 

You shrieked in surprise, jamming your foot down onto your own brake. Amy let out a yelp, and your phone flew out of her hands and onto the floorboards. Instinctively, your arm shot out in front of her, protecting her from going forward. 

As you skidded to a stop, narrowly avoiding colliding with the other truck, your first thought was to back up and go the way you’d come. If you got close enough to town you might be able to ask for help. But something told you that it wasn’t going to be that easy. Even so, you tried it anyway, throwing the truck in reverse and frantically turning the wheel. You almost had it, too. If it wasn’t for Billy jumping out of the Ford and easily firing two arrows from a crossbow into the tires. 

You heard the hissing before you realized what it was. Then the truck shuddered, and you realized the tires were going flat. “No!” You cried. You hit the brakes again, and soon, the truck slid to a rough, jarring halt.  You could see the brothers quickly approaching through your side view mirror. 

“What do they want?!” Amy cried, trembling with fear beside you. 

You knew you had to protect her. So you turned to her, eyes locked into hers. “Get down on the floor. Stay in this truck and do not get out. See if you can call Uncle Rhett. I-I’ll get out and talk to them.”

But you never got the chance. Suddenly, your door was yanked open, and you gasped in surprise, coming face to face with Luke. 

“Get out of the truck,” he said. 

“Please, this isn’t–”

Billy lifted the crossbow, pointing it right at you. “Get out!” 

With trembling hands, you fumbled to unbuckle your seatbelt, chest tight with fear as you scrambled out of the truck. Behind you, you could hear Amy crying, scared out of her mind. 

“No!” She wailed, grabbing onto your arm in a futile attempt to keep you from going with them. 

“Amy, baby, let go of me!” You exclaimed, afraid they’d hurt her if she didn’t settle. But when you glanced back at her, you saw a wildness in her eyes. She’d already lost her mother, she was terrified of losing you, too. 

But in the blink of an eye, you were hauled out of the truck, kicking and screaming. Luke was strong, but you were a wolf, and you were stronger than him. It wasn’t that difficult to pull yourself out of his grasp, and you growled threateningly, whirling around to face both men, daring them to come closer.

But one had a crossbow fitted with silver arrows. You could tell by the way they glinted in the sun. If Billy shot you with one of them, it would not end well. Silver was was like poison for werewolves. And you thought of the babe inside you, and how it might harm her. You didn’t want to risk getting shot. 

But it was still your instinct to fight. “What do you want with me?!” You cried, baring your fangs, your eyes flashing gold. 

But both of them grabbed you at once, wrestling you against the side of the truck, even as you snarled and snapped and struggled. You managed to catch Luke by the face with your claws and leave a considerable slash in his cheek, at which he growled in pain. But it only angered him and his adrenaline made him even stronger. 

Amidst the scuffle, you felt something sharp against the side of your neck, like a pinprick, and then, a thick, metallic collar was fastened crudely around your throat just as your body began to betray you. 

You gasped, and suddenly, you had no control of your limbs. Your brain screamed at you to fight, to flee, to preserve yourself. But you couldn’t move. Before you even realized, you were plummeting toward the ground, and your vision swam with black spots until, finally, you succumbed to unconsciousness entirely. 

Billy looked at Luke as they stood over your crumpled form. “What should we do about the kid? Wanna take her with us too?” Billy asked. 

Luke sighed, reaching into his back pocket to grab a handkerchief to dab at the wound on his cheek. “Ma wouldn’t want us just to leave her. I’ll grab her, she could be useful. You get this one into the truck,” he motioned toward you before he sauntered around to the passenger side of your GMC. 

However, when he opened the door, expecting to find a distraught Amy, he came up with nothing. The cab was empty, and Amy was nowhere to be found. 

“What the fuck?” Luke whispered to himself. “Goddammit!” 

Where on earth could she have gone? All that surrounded the was open plains. In the amount of time it took to get you down, there was no way she could’ve found a hiding place that quickly. 

Hurriedly, Luke ducked to check beneath the truck, and the truck bed, only to come up empty-handed. He cursed again, kicking at one of the slashed tires. 

“She’s gone!” He exclaimed to his brother. 

Billy’s eyes went wide. “How?!” He asked as he shoved the bed cover closed on the F150, effectively covering up the fact that you were currently laying inside it. 

“I don’t know! I thought they couldn’t shift that young but maybe she did and that’s how she got the slip. I guess it’s not that big of a deal, but Ma will still be pissed we let her get away.”

Billy shrugged it off. “Whatever. We don’t even have to tell her the kid got away since she doesn’t know she was here to begin with. ‘sides, Rhett’s mate was who we were after anyway. We got what we came for. Let’s go.”

And so, the Tillerson boys climbed back into their truck and headed off toward their ranch, your unconscious body hidden in the back. 

Meanwhile, in that old, rickety GMC, a furry little wolf pup was just squeezing out from under the front seat, where she’d hidden herself from the view of the hunters. She crept toward the door, where she stuck her head out and sniffed at the air. She smelled the remnants of gasoline and exhaust, and she whimpered. 

Amy wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in this predicament. One moment, she was watching in terror as you were ripped away from her, and the next, she was shrinking, and when she looked down, her hands were little black paws. 

Driven by her fear, she managed to wedge herself beneath the bench and hide there until the Tillersons left. Now, she had no idea how to shift back to human, but she knew she had to get help. So she launched herself onto the dusty ground, and took off in the direction of home. 

Meanwhile, at the Abbott ranch, things were in upheaval. 

Rhett had been out with his father and brother, searching for a lost steer that had somehow gotten away from the herd. Rhett claimed a coyote probably got to it. Royal insisted the animal was simply lost. 

Halfway out into the south pasture, Rhett was hit with a sudden shock of anxiety, as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water on him. 

“Whoa,” he gently spoke to his mare Esmeralda, tugging on her reins to bring her to a stop. He gasped sharply as, all at once, this horrible, consuming wave of dread began spreading within his chest. 

“No,” he croaked, and just like that, his entire world began to spin off its axis. He clutched at his chest as his heart began to pound. It felt almost like a heart attack, except he knew it was nothing of the sort. 

You were in danger. 

“Somethin’s wrong!” He desperately shouted ahead to Royal and Perry. He hardly recognized his own voice. It was a guttural, anguished cry. 

He urged Esmeralda into a gallop, hurtling toward the other two men. “Gotta go back!” Rhett cried. He spoke your and Amy’s names, and that immediately got their attention. Together, the three of them set off for the house, with Rhett urging Esmeralda as fast as she could go. 

As soon as he made it to the house, he eased the horse to a stop and, quick as lightning, jumped to the ground. Although he had the ability to sense when you were in danger, that ability did not allow him to pinpoint your exact location. He had to follow you by sense alone, and the closer he got to you, the stronger that terrible ache in his chest would get, letting him know he was on the right track to find you. 

He’d never felt this before. Not to this magnitude. He had always been told that it was an intense feeling, indescribable in every sense. And it was. It was the strongest sensation he’d ever felt. Like his heart was outside of his body, pulling him toward you. 

The second his feet hit the ground, he was running, sprinting into the house in search of Royal’s truck keys. He startled his mother, who was in the kitchen making preparations for the dinner that night. 

“Goodness gracious, what’s happened?!” She asked her son. He shouted over his shoulder that you and Amy were in danger, and Cecilia gasped, her heart dropping at the thought of her granddaughter and daughter-in-law being harmed. 

Keys in hand, Rhett threw himself toward the old Ford Ranger, flinging open the door, ignoring the voices of his family members shouting after him. His vision was tunneled. The only thing that mattered was getting to you. He was just about to turn and tell Cecilia to inform your parents of what was happening, but then, altogether, he froze.

A chill ran down his spine, and he sucked in a ragged breath. “No,” he wheezed. “No, no, no.”

“I-I can’t feel her,” he whispered. He wrenched the truck door back open, and he locked eyes with his mother, who was waiting concernedly nearby. His knees nearly buckled as his feet hit the ground. He stumbled forward, and Cecilia caught him. “Mama, I can’t…I can’t feel her!”

“What do you mean you can’t feel her?” She asked her son. But she knew. 

“She’s…she’s just gone! I can’t…I don’t…” Rhett could hardly speak. His throat felt like it was constricting, cutting off his airflow. A harrowing sense of dread washed over him. He knew what this meant. All of them did. If a werewolf could no longer feel its mate’s presence, it could only mean one thing. 

That mate was dead. 

And that realization drove Rhett to his knees. Cecilia caught him so he wouldn’t hit the ground hard. He clutched at his mother’s shirt, his face buried against her abdomen, and he wailed out his pain, the agony of which was too great for him to bear. 

Perry was demanding something above him. Shouting about finding Amy. But Rhett couldn’t hear him. He was deafened by the rush of blood in his ears. Deafened by the ringing sound. He thought of you, and the baby you carried, and he wept. 

Just like that, in the blink of an eye, he’d lost everything. 

To be continued…

-

tagging: (a mix of those already on my taglist/those who were tagged in the first part)

@cdauni @gothamrots @happyrebelruins @bobfloydsbabe @myfandomchangesalot @mikpieboo @petersunderoos96 @eighthwvnder @yanna-banana @bradshawsbaby @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @milesmillergf @briseisgone @laluneveillesureux @gohnspants @hangmanapologist @wkndwlff @damrlova @withahappyrefrain @michaego @whisperofsong @kmc1989

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[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Not Hungry Anymore - The Waya Pack of Wabang, Wyoming is dying. There is infighting among the three families, and the Alpha line is in jeopardy - on the edge of extinction. So the Alpha, Royal Abbott, makes a deal with one of the other werewolf families: His second son will marry their daughter to strengthen the pack against the Tillerson attack. Even if neither of them wants that. ╰┈➤ the werewolf rhett // tess au that...will probably happen eventually

since this one will most likely get at least a few little drabbles once I'm off hiatus (don't know when that is don't @ me), I'll tag some people who may be interested: @newlibrary @blue-aconite @yanna-banana @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @bobfloydsbabe @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gigisimsonmars @onebigfangirlworld

[delopsia]

Light trickles in through the warped window frames overhead. Thin slivers cascade downward, miniature spotlights revealing everything in its path. There's movement in the center of the room, chains clinking as a slim figure interrupts the delicate light show of the full moon, stumbling left, then right, bound to the center of the room. 

Opening your mouth once more, you call out his name. "Rhett?" 

His head jerks. Boots stomping the dusty floor. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. All it would take is for those steel chains to come off the overhead beam, and you'd be toast, sliced up like tomorrow's breakfast sausage. 

But he already sees you. 

-a snippet from a currently untitled werewolf!Rhett fic-

[sebsxphia]

We are all horny here basically. Anyways. Let me tell you about werewolf rheet, his little lamp and his favorite way to cockwarm. Because obviously, when he knots her, they are tied together for quit some time. So he loves to fuck her in lotus so he can have his mouth on her tits for that time. He never gets barred and she will be sore and aching once be is done with her.

hear hear dear anon! we are all horny here 😌 and oh BOY am i horny for this thot!

fucking in lotus and cockwarming him in lotus?! hghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. his mouth soothes their aching and swollen nipples and they’re able to feel so full, all of the time. but even when they’re aching after, rhett is there to soothe them and praise them for how well they took him 🥺

this has me so fucking feral dear anon, omg. thank you so much for this thot! 💌

[ironcladrhett]

TIMING: Current (last night) LOCATION: Alan’s house, World’s End Isle PARTIES: Rhett (@ironcladrhett) & Alan (@alan-duarte) SUMMARY: Definitely worried about Alan’s shoulder after having been shot (and definitely not just an excuse to see him), Rhett drops in on the realtor unannounced. It’s going fine until Alan admits to Rhett, in not so many words, that he knows he’s a hunter, and he knows he attacked Cass and Alex. CONTENT WARNINGS: Wrspice (implied, it fades to black)

—

It had been months since he’d gotten shot by that fucking hunter. The wound had time to mend itself but you couldn’t say the same about Alan. The weather would only get worse and worse as the days went by, and the latest rainfall had made his shoulder ache. Still, how could he possibly regret stepping in the way? Ever since Alex had stepped into the werewolf’s life, he felt as though he had another, new reason to wake up in the morning. There was the purpose that came along with being a mentor of sorts, of course, but he also had to admit to appreciating the girl’s company, even if she spent half her air criticizing his housing projects and the other half talking about Cass. 

His hand idly rubbing at his shoulder, Alan’s eyes scanned through his emails. His empty coffee cup sat nearby, next to a pile of ongoing contracts and a plate that only had a bunch of crumbs to hold now. He didn’t usually bring work home but to say they were short staffed would have been an understatement. Alan could have hired someone extra, but there weren’t many people looking forward to living or working in a town where the floor wanted you dead (or anything close enough to that), and he hadn’t found anyone who could do the job properly among the very few resumes that were sent their way.

His jaw popped as he yawned and if that wasn’t enough proof that he needed a change of mind, a knock on the door finished convincing him out of his duties. And yet, as he opened the door, answering negatively to desperate emails suddenly didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. What was he doing here? 

—

He’d been attacked. Shot out in the woods while… what, hiking? The sudden surge of concern had been alarming, making his steps falter. Ophelia walked on without him for a few seconds before realizing her father wasn’t beside her anymore, slowing and turning around to face him. “What? What is it?” she inquired curiously. Rhett shook his head, his frown deepening as he tapped away at the screen. His daughter let out a huff of breath, closing the distance between them again and putting her hands on her hips. “Dad. What is it?” 

Rhett clicked the screen off and stuffed the device in his pocket, shaking his head again. “Nothin’,” he lied, flashing her a brief, unconvincing smile. She frowned and rolled her eyes, pulling the sleeve of her flannel back to check the time.

“Ah, shit, I have to go—we’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow, okay?” The warden grimaced, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Do we gotta?” “Yes, we gotta. You need a place to live that isn’t that atrocious van!” Ophelia argued, shutting down his continued protest with a feisty glare. The man relented, holding up his hands in defeat. “Good. Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Can… can we do the afternoon, instead?” Rhett tried, giving her a hopeful look and a shrug. Ophelia narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then nodded. 

“Fine. 11am is late enough. Don’t be hungover,” she warned, grabbing him in a tight hug before hurrying off down the street to the nearest bus stop. Rhett sighed, watching her go for a moment before calling a taxi to take him to World’s End Isle.

The ride wasn’t unfamiliar, and neither was the home that stood before him as he got out of the taxi. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he paid his fare before moving toward the front door, pausing to pull his hair up into a messy bun along the way and push up the sleeves of the dark button-up he was wearing. He was still clad in jeans and boots, but they were a far cry from the ratty old things Alan had insisted he’d tossed. Knocking on the door, he didn’t have to wait long in the bitter cold of the darkening evening (he really should have worn a coat) for Alan to pull it open. 

And just like that, his words failed him and he felt a little stupid for being here. Not unannounced, that’d never been a problem for him, but… ah, forget it. His gaze jumped from Alan’s face to one shoulder, then the other, then back to his face. 

“Hey,” he said stupidly, sucking in a sharp breath. “You, ah… I was… nearby, and I thought… uh. How’s your…” Another deep breath, and the warden closed his eyes. “I been shot ‘afore. Sometimes leaves… chronic pain. Learned a few… massagin’ techniques to take the edge off. Thought I could help. Maybe.”

—

While Alan doubted at first that Rhett just happened to be in the neighborhood, he then remembered Emilio saying that he had moved into the realtor’s neighborhood and it wasn't like they had not spoken recently. It was a bit perilous, to keep talking to him as though he wasn't aware of what had happened between the hunter and Cass, or of Alex’s involvement. 

Alan could get along with hunters, if they were reasonable. He got along with Emilio just fine. This complicated things. He appreciated Emilio, he cared a lot for Alex, which meant that he cared for Cass too, but ultimately, Alan also had a fondness for the man who stood on his doorstep with a bashful, stammering stream of words and what seemed like an attempt at sympathy and honesty. It was in a moment like this Alan wished he hadn't let others soften him up.

“Alright, don't stay here,” crossing his arms to wrap his cardigan around him and attempt to stay warm, he pushed himself aside. “Do you want to drink something?”

—

“Aye, when don’t I?” Rhett chuckled, moving into the home and giving a soft sigh of relief at the warmth that wrapped around him. He was still barely used to actual winters and didn’t quite prepare for them right, always overestimating his ability to handle the cold. A shiver ran up his spine and he let his gaze sweep over the place, still finding new things he’d missed despite having been here a few times. It was… nice. Maybe having a place to live that wasn’t on wheels wouldn’t be so bad.

“Anythin’s fine.” Not picky, he didn’t have to say. Alan knew that, obviously. He turned to the man as they made their way to the kitchen, his brow wrinkling as he thought about what he wanted to say. 

“Hey… maybe you oughtta stick to like, neighborhood trails, aye? The woods out beyond downtown are… fucked.” He stepped a bit closer to minimize the distance between them, one hand gently finding Alan’s shoulder. “... which one?”

—

“I’ll get something from the wine cellar,” Alan’s gaze drifted toward the lights across the street. Some of his neighbors were already decorating for Christmas, and their houses could have replaced the public lighting with ease. His parents always found it wasteful and Alan had always preferred to keep his front lawn decorations to a tasteful minimum, which didn’t clash with the minimalism of his house, or Alan’s less than sunny personality. “You’re alright with Californian wine?” Most likely. 

Two glasses were poured and while Alan focused on that, he could try to ignore just for a little bit the irony of Rhett’s words. One of the reasons the woods were so fucking dangerous for Alan was the presence of people who shared Rhett’s belief that a certain part of the local population didn’t deserve to live. And yet that hand on his shoulder was easy to lean against. “Wrong pick,” Alan glanced up to find the other’s eyes, and tapped on the left shoulder. The hunter didn’t look very frightening right now, did he? “Massaging techniques?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he challenged the other’s ability to soothe out pain rather than cause it. “Your hand is cold dear, I’m gonna start a fire in the living room.”

—

“Where yer other scar is? Man. Unlucky shoulder,” the hunter mused, catching that look in Alan’s eyes and letting out a soft sigh. As the other announced his intention to make a fire, Rhett picked up his glass from the counter, leaning instead onto his cane as he stepped forward after his friend to slowly follow him into the next room. “S’what I said,” he answered, albeit delayed, at Alan’s apparent disbelief that there was much to be done about the aching wound. Or at least that there wasn’t much Rhett could do. Which was… fair. More fair than he figured the man knew, considering there’d not been any threats of violence yet. The way they’d carried on online, he assumed that news of the girls hadn’t made it back to Alan, which told him two things: Alan was unaware of the supernatural (which would stop the girls from having said anything, most likely), and by extension, he himself was quite normal. Human. 

Or at least this was the logic that he applied because he hoped it was true. He couldn’t imagine someone putting on a facade just to fool him, pretending that they didn’t know something as devastating as what he’d done to those girls just to… to what? Get the jump on him? It didn’t make sense, so that couldn’t be it. No, he had no idea, and Rhett found himself clinging to that idea more desperately with each moment of calm familiarity that passed between them. 

Parking himself on the couch while his host went about building a fire, Rhett rested his cane against the coffee table, keeping his eye trained on the other man. A finger reached up idly to push itself beneath the eyepatch and scratch at skin unseen. “Kinda good I been half-blind fer a couple years now,” he said suddenly, gesturing vaguely at the eyepatch when Alan looked over. “Would be havin’ a hell of a time with depth perception, otherwise.” It was said with a dry, nearly humorless chuckle. He’d long since adjusted, and the eye he’d lost to trauma was no more useful when it was still plugged into his head. It wasn’t something he readily told people, because it was a weakness, and he hated admitting those, but… well, it was a lot more obvious now anyway, wasn’t it? Anyway, he didn’t have to mention the fact that he could barely see out of the eye that remained. Even Emilio didn’t know about that.

— 

“Same one,” Alan confirmed. Right above that one bite mark he considered still a curse rather than a blessing. It was easier to tell Alex that she should embrace it than to make her feel the same way he did. There was no cure to the evil they suffered, and there was no undoing the things Alan did. There were some things he didn’t regret, of course, but there was too much he had lost for the benefits to outweigh the disadvantages. 

Sitting by the fireplace with a log in his hands, he looked over at Rhett, unaware of the hunter’s mental peregrinations. He was going through his own : it seemed unlikely that man was going to be able to do anyone harm in that state, but there was a chance he’d want to get his revenge. That is what Alan would have done if he’d been standing in his shoes. Maybe now was the right moment to ask Rhett about it. What could he do to him anyway? He had a bad leg and worse eyesight than before, and Alan liked to think he wouldn’t have come all the way to his house if he hadn’t appreciated him at all. “Since we’re talking about things that we’ve carried around for a few years,” he pushed himself back up, as the firestarter did its work and the wood started cracking gently against the new flames, “you know that old scar of mine?” He rubbed his fingers over his sweater, right where he knew the irregular scar remained. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable talking about it, after all these years. Still, he took a seat, on the other end of the couch, and picked up his glass of wine. “That’s something Alex and I have in common,” with a clearly knowing look, he turned his attention toward the hunter’s face. There was no trace of amusement on Alan’s face. He didn’t particularly enjoy having this conversation with Rhett, but it wasn’t like the other had left him with much of a choice. “I’m not trying to ambush you. You’d have joined the club already if I did,” but that was not the sort of fate he wished on anyone and Alan hoped he never did such a thing on one of his full moons.

—

Alan was uncomfortable. The things he was saying didn't quite click at first, and the warden just cocked his head at the man, wearing a soft, bemused smile. That’s something Alex and I have in common. His heart leapt into his throat at the girl’s name, body tensing reflexively. He felt his too-strong grip on the glass threatening to shatter it, and instead leaned forward to set it down on the coffee table, realizing that his hand was shaking as he pulled back again. “What?” he balked, refusing to believe what he was being told. 

Alan was a fucking werewolf? And he knew—he knew, this whole time. There was a vague threat in there, one that had been restrained only because of… whatever this was that they shared, apparently. The hunter’s heartbeat had kicked up significantly, fearful in spite of Alan’s assurances that if he wanted Rhett dead—or worse—it would’ve already come to pass. There was no pretending now. No reason to act like he wasn’t a killer, like Alan didn’t know that he’d attacked Cass and Alex in the woods, and that his fresh scars and permanent injuries were a result of the young werewolf protecting what she loved. 

Before her, he would have been angry. He would have been furious for being duped like this, duped into caring for someone who was… was… The insults felt bitter on his tongue, and of course his thoughts went briefly to his daughter. He’d been a hypocrite plenty of times in his life, he knew that, but he couldn’t—he’d said he wouldn’t. He was retired now. He couldn’t—

“You’re… I…” He didn’t know what to say, hating the feeling of fear and hurt taking up residence where the anger should have been. “I didn’t know—she… I thought I was protectin’ her,” he breathed, rising from the couch and grabbing his cane before he sank back to the floor without it. For the brief few moments before she turned and attacked us, sure. “Then she—look. Listen. I ain’t—I’m retired now, aye? I don’t…” He felt sick. Whatever sort of affection he held for the man—no, the werewolf—sitting at the other end of the couch felt tainted by his deeply ingrained disgust for inhuman things, but he was wrestling with his acceptance of his daughter at the same time. He couldn’t have it both ways, and yet his mind was trying to put the blinders back on. 

He took a wobbly step backward, waving his free hand in the air defensively. “I don’t want no more trouble,” he muttered, turning away from Alan to try and hobble back toward the front door.

—

“I…” Well this wasn’t what Alan had expected. For a moment, he thought he saw it : the anger, the disgust, but there was nothing but worry and something akin to fright there. At least Alan figured that must have been fright, and he realized that perhaps he had just fucked up here. “Rhett, please…” It wasn’t like he was gonna outrun the werewolf, not in the state he was in and Alan still rushed past him, if only to stand in his way and attempt to have a conversation. “I’m sorry, I…” Putting his hands before him, Alan felt oddly vulnerable, for someone who wasn’t precisely under any threat other than Rhett’s sudden departure. 

It was too much at once. Finding out Alan was a werewolf, finding out he knew about the hunting thing, about the incident with Cass, about the incident with Alex. But the werewolf was feeling a whirl of conflicting emotions ever since he had heard what happened, and the more he spoke with the hunter, the more confused he was with what was the right course of action. If he hadn’t known Rhett at all, it wouldn’t have been difficult. It would have been quite simple, really. With a sigh, Alan looked down to the side,  finding it difficult to hold up his gaze. 

“Can we just sit down and talk?” Because he’d just follow him outside, stubborn as he was. “You said you retired, yeah?” Whatever that meant. Retirement didn’t make anyone like Rhett completely harmless, but the way he said it made Alan wonder what had pushed him to make that call. He had mentioned a daughter earlier today, and now that the werewolf saw the damage done by Alex, he could take a wild guess and claim that the hunter was now unfit for carrying out his duties. “I wish I could do the same,” with a bitter scoff, he glanced the other way, still avoiding looking him in the eyes.

—

Alan stopping him, apologizing and asking him to just talk were things that desperately confused the warden. He came to an abrupt halt, of course, keeping his distance from Alan, knowing that there was no chance of him forcing his way through. Even with his enhanced strength, he was crippled. There was nothing to do about it, so he stayed, trapped like a stray dog for the second time in as many months. 

At least this werewolf wasn’t trying to gut him like a fish. 

There was a weak attempt at humor that was met with a soft exhale from Rhett, not quite a laugh, but an acknowledgement of what Alan was saying. He looked as bewildered as he felt, the grip on his cane tightening as he steadied himself on his feet and lifted it to his waist, like he was afraid he was going to have to use it to defend himself. It was clear he didn’t want a fight, because they both knew it would be his last one, but he couldn’t help the reaction. 

“Nothin’ to talk about,” he argued, his voice strained with emotion. He too was looking anywhere but at Alan, his one-eyed gaze raking over the ceiling as he spoke again in a voice that was nearly too soft and too upset to be coming from such a typically gruff, loud man. “I fucked up,” he breathed, his knuckles turning white as they clutched the cane even tighter. It wasn’t clear what exactly he was referring to, though one could surmise that it was likely his attack on Alex and Cass—though in his mind, coming here had been part of it. Engaging with Alan had been part of it, even back when he thought nothing of it, because it always just made things harder. He wasn’t built for this. Never had been, and he shouldn’t have tried again. Not even to the level that they had… which was far from falling in love, but still. He cared for Alan in a way that was mostly foreign to him these days, and caring for people… well, shit, look what it had put him through with Emilio. Hell and back again. 

His eye finally found Alan’s face and he hissed in a sharp breath when he felt it welling with tears. “Please,” he begged, not sure what he was begging for. He just wanted to leave, but… he also didn’t. He wanted them to be okay, but some part of him was ready to convince him that they never could. That made sense, right? How could it ever be okay? 

This was why he shouldn’t be looking for a place to live. He’d fucked things up here, beyond the point of repair. There was no home to be had here. And Ophelia… she’d be better off without him. He was a destroyer, nothing more. 

—

“Really? You’re gonna tell me that what happened in the woods was nothing?” The bitterness of Alan’s tone clashed with Rhett’s, and it took the werewolf aback as well, as if he had expected their tones to match instead. They both had a right to be furious at the other, didn’t they? 

Confused, but not defeated yet, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “This makes things easier, don’t you think?” A monster meets a monster ; a killer, a killer, and a liar, a liar. They both had a lot of terrible things on their ledger, without a doubt, but Alan didn’t ask Rhett to stay because he wanted to have a look at an hypothetical moral balance if only because he worried his own would be just as bad, if not worse. 

“You don’t precisely have a monopoly on having done terrible things or fucking up,” and he held out his hand, not entirely sure of whether the other would reject it or not. “I’m not… I just want to talk and sort things out,” because he was tired of seeing people he cared about hurt, and of losing people. He didn’t want to lose Alex, but he had come to realize he didn’t really want to lose Rhett either. What they had might have been new, he cared for that fool enough to ask him, once again to have a word with him. Maybe Alan was the fool here, who knew? 

“I’m not a good person myself, but… I’m trying to be better,” because he’d seen the kind of change it made. Alan kept to himself the fact that a fae had been partly responsible for the change, at first. Forced kindness surely had done a lot for Alan’s morale at first, worsening it each passing day until he realized how different things were when he addressed others with consideration. “C’mon. You’ll be sorry you didn’t try the wine, and it’s warmer by the fireplace than out there, and…” then, and only then, he tried looking at Rhett, catching sight of near teary eyes and the look he gave him was an apologetic one. “I really am sorry for the way I brought this up.”

—

He stared at the extended hand, knowing it for what it was: an olive branch, and yet… His gaze jumped back up to find Alan’s just as he was looking at him. And he apologized again. And Rhett realized he still had yet to do that, but didn’t know if he could. He swallowed hard, finally releasing the cane with his left hand and setting it back against the floor where it belonged, leaning onto it as he realized his leg was aching. 

He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, sighed, and tried again. “I’m tryin’, too. To be better.” Annoyed that his body had betrayed him, the warden pressed the sleeve of his shirt over his ‘good’ eye to soak up the unspilled tears, lowering his arm again and shaking out the nervous energy that was building up in him like a terrible storm. Again his gaze fell to Alan’s hand, and he sighed, dropped his head, and reached for it. “Stop apologizin’,” he grumbled at the other, keeping his chin down as he was led back into the living room where the fireplace and wine still waited for them. 

Once they were seated again, the warden leaned forward onto his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “... what you wanna sort out, then? Before you ask, no—I ain’t gonna go after them again. Hence the whole…” Retirement thing, he left out, his voice trailing off instead as it threatened to waver and betray him once more. 

—

Alan was grateful for Rhett’s pragmatism then. He didn't precisely want to ask whether or not he would have to worry for Cass’ or Alex’s safety although he was curious as to what had caused him to change his mind. Was it the fact that he’d lost an eye, or that he most likely would walk with a cane from now on? Or was it that recent revelation he had had. 

It was another thing he wasn't sure how to bring up. Rhett had been evasive on the matter while they spoke online, and back then Alan was more interested in his girls’ well-being to care to push the subject any further. “What are you gonna do now? Focus on the forge business ?” Perhaps kicking around the bush was easier, for now. It wasn't like he didn't care for Rhett’s answer. Even though he was furious he had attacked Cass (especially since he’d first seen her at his place), when Alex told him what she’d done, he couldn't help but feel worried for both sides instead of just hers. And then, Alan had felt terrible about that. 

He still felt conflicted. How could he not ?

“Would you like me to let them know that they’re safe?” Part of him felt like an idiot for blindly believing his word, and the other part just had to look at the poor man to forget about any sense of doubt. “Do you want something stronger than wine?” Because one glass wouldn't suffice to soothe Alan’s nerves and he assumed Rhett, much like his brother, favored stronger liquor.

—

“I guess,” he responded dejectedly. It was true, it wasn’t like hunting was the only thing he spent his time on, and he could certainly put in more hours at the forge. They’d extend his contract if he asked, he knew that. His work made them a lot of money, after all. And that would fill the days, but what of the nights? He’d been horribly restless since Alex kicked his ass six ways to Sunday, stuck in bed all day and night, shuffling aimlessly around Parker’s house, irritated by his own uselessness. He slept enough, but not much. How would he fill the rest of those hours? It was why, in his conversation with Emilio, he’d wanted to make sure he ended up living somewhere near a pub, if that was a thing that was going to happen at all. He needed a distraction. He needed to medicate. 

Glancing sideways at his friend, Rhett scoffed, but it wasn’t out of malice. He was just… well, it was difficult to describe. “They know. Er… Alex does, anyway. She… reached out, after. Told ‘er as much. Guess hearin’ it from you too ain’t gonna hurt none, though.” At the offer for something harder than wine, the warden nodded silently. It wasn’t until Alan had returned with said liquor (and Rhett had drained his glass already) that the hunter spoke of the elephant in the room. 

“It’s my kid,” he offered quietly, downing a gulp of the hard liquor Alan had brought back to the living room, not much caring to know what it was, and just wanting it to help him fucking relax. “She’s… like Cass. A nymph.” He dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head. A moment of silence fell over them while Alan absorbed what he’d said and Rhett reached deep for the next thing he wanted to say. 

“I wasn’t… always like this.” Like this meaning, of course, the sort of hunter, the sort of man that would attempt to murder a girl who had committed no crime other than being different from him. “I used to… I was, y’know. More… live n’ let live.” The explanations were not coming easily, strangled out of him like he’d never spoken them before (which he hadn’t), an admission of the person he’d been before everything went wrong only making him feel worse for the way he’d become. He couldn’t claim to have been born this way, no… it was learned. It was adopted from grief, and he’d clung to that grief so bitterly and for so long that it had overtaken him like a parasite. Why? What changed? He knew the questions were coming. He could see Desmond’s face in his mind’s eye, hear his friend accusing him of failing. Fuck. Fuck. 

—

Although Alan felt as though speaking would do more harm than good, remaining quiet when someone unfolded themselves like that wasn't exactly easy. He would have liked to ask questions, but rather than push to know more, he sat back, getting his feet and his knees up on the couch to get comfortable and just listen. Nursing his glass of wine against his cashmere sweater, he shifted again, pushing on his shoulder briefly before humming quietly. 

Rhett had had a child with a nymph and then decided that not one single fae deserved to live. Alan knew he was missing a piece of the puzzle here, one that Rhett kept without a doubt, close to his chest. But he had already shared so much. Was it fair to ask ? Should he have waited for him to tell by himself? Was he supposed to piece it all together on his own ? 

With no clear answer to his thoughts, Alan took a long sip from his glass and leaned forward to give his pal a refill. He scooted a bit closer too, if only to put a friendly hand on his forearm. “What's her name ?” He inquired. “Did you… reach out to her?” He imagined easily that facing an angry werewolf could make one reflect on the meaning of their life. “Is she staying with you?” Neither the van nor the bunker seemed like a suitable place for a young woman to live, but Alan felt like now was a good time for kindness. 

The wood cracked a bit in the fireplace, and Alan’s gaze fell onto the flames for a moment. “You’ll have to tell me more about that live and let live guy. He sounds fun,” with a light smile he picked up his wine glass, taking another sip. 

—

What’s her name? Rhett stared down at his hands, at Alan’s hand on his tattooed arm, and hesitated. “Ophelia,” he finally answered, trying to make a list of the rest of them in his mind so he could rattle them off more easily and satisfy Alan’s curiosity. “And no. She.. found me. After… after this.” He gestured at his leg and eye. “Reached out once. Ignored her. Then she tracked down ‘Milio, made him agree to have us meet. N’ no. She ain’t stayin’ with me. She n’... her mum, they’re… they got a community’ah their own. One I was huntin’ down. I was ready to raze that place to the fuckin’ ground, mate.” He lifted his free hand to his face again, hiding behind his palm as he struggled with the reality of his situation. “She’s… she’s a good kid. Grown now, but… fuck’s sake.” He was crying again, gritting his teeth angrily and swiping at the tears with the back of his hand. 

Rhett actually managed a weak laugh when Alan smiled as his own little half-joke. He felt like he was shaking his head too much, but it was all he could think to do half the time. All of this just felt… stupid. Wrong. He’d not talked to anyone about any of this and he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. Was he mourning who he used to be? Relieved to have a chance to get back to that? Afraid? He couldn’t fucking decide. “He was fun,” came his answer, finally. “Fun enough to… to keep his stupid, angry brother in line, anyway. Desmond, he… he hated nonhumans. Hated ‘em all, always wanted to kill every single one we came across. I talked him outta a lot of ‘em, but after he—” Rhett’s breath caught in his throat and he shivered, pushing the thought away. He turned his head to look at Alan, distraught. “M’sorry. Fer all of it. I ain’t been right in a… a long time.”

—

That wasn't the sort of spectacle he’d have ever expected to see. Some men looked like they had never shed a tear in their entire life and up until now, Alan figured that Rhett was one of them. For a few more seconds, he didn't budge, sympathetically brushing his thumb against the tattooed forearm. “She’s a brave kid,” at least from what he understood. Searching for the guy who wanted her whole species dead took guts. “I guess she got that much from you,” moving his hand to Rhett’s cheek, Alan couldn't help but smile a bit more as he elicited a laugh out of him.

His hand dropped back to his lap, and he once again fell silent. He didn't know everything about Emilio and Rhett’s lives clearly, but he always assumed their family bond might have gone a bit further than blood. Desmond was a name he had never heard before, one Rhett spoke of past tense, he noticed. It didn't take the full sentence for Alan to connect the dots. 

He remained silent, even as Rhett's apology finally arrived. With all that he had just unpacked, Alan even had to stop himself from saying sorry for the third time. “You know, if you can change once, you can change twice. I meant it when I said I'd like to know more about the live and let live version of you,” and how could that happen without support ? 

His empty glass of wine was set down on the coffee table, and an offer to get or make something to eat was made. “You’re not alone, alright ?”

—

She was brave… braver than Alan knew. Braver than Rhett could bring himself to admit. She’d sought him out, even though he was the reason she and her mother had to run from place to place. She looked for him knowing that he might want to kill her, and… and he had, hadn’t he? For a moment. The first time she called him, he was angry. Angry that she existed, angry that she’d found him, angry that her presence was going to complicate his plans. 

For a moment, he’d wanted her dead. For a moment, he’d settled on the idea that he’d be the one to do it. A moment turned into a week, turned into two. He’d kill her, he thought. Be done with it. Only Emilio wouldn’t let him, wouldn’t allow them to be alone together. Smart. He’d been bluffing when he told his brother that she was safe because she was his daughter—what did blood matter? He’d never been a part of her life. What did any of it matter? 

But then he saw her face to face, and his fury had withered beneath her warm gaze and bright smile. All the fight had left him in one fell swoop, and he found himself wishing it’d happened just a few days sooner. Before he tracked Cass to her cave. Before Alex attacked him to save her, before she crippled him further, before all of it. But… maybe it wasn’t a bad thing, being physically unable to fight, to match how he felt inside. Maybe it made all this easier. Maybe if he hadn’t been so injured, he still would have been angry when Ophelia looked him in the eye and told him he had to stop hunting her mother. Maybe he would have done something stupid, and maybe Emilio would have been the one to put him down. 

It was all for the best, probably. Except for that girl, that nymph. None of it was fair to her. Ugh. 

The offer of food was turned down, the warden’s interest in anything other than booze proving to be lackluster. And the more he drank of that, the less reactive he became to the things he was saying. The pent up fear and frustration and guilt didn’t force itself out by way of tears or stammered words anymore, and for a while, Rhett was quiet. He simply existed, sitting beside Alan on the couch as they watched the flames eat up the logs in the fireplace, the comfortable but heavy silence stretching on until he felt compelled to break it with a question. 

“Alan,” he began, his voice hoarse, “why don’t you hate me?”

—

Why didn't he hate him? Alan couldn't say he had tried very much. His anger against Rhett’s action had almost immediately become laced to worry and, little by little with an unsettling echo. The werewolf might have not hunted down any specific hunter in his life, most of those who had crossed his path had either come to regret it or didn't even have time to reflect on their mistake. 

A few months ago, he wouldn't have seen hypocrisy in condemning what Rhett had done because it wasn't the same, right? At least Alan was protecting himself, and those hunters were probably going to try to hurt him or another werewolf. It was only self preservation. Nothing more. These last few weeks, yes, Alan felt a different way. On both sides of the story, there were people with lives and loved ones and he knew for certain that this wasn't how he’d get hunters to stop roaming the woods looking for revenge or ultimately… trying to protect their own people.  Maybe it was not the same, no, but that didn't make it right.

Alan’s gaze remained fixed on the flames for a while more and he served himself another glass of wine as he thought some more on his reply. 

He didn't want to give Rhett the wrong idea. Even if he did something similar, he didn't convince himself that what he did was right, even if that would have helped him sleep better some nights. And eventually what did the trick was thinking of what else defined him and telling oneself that there was more to him than his wrong doings. 

“I suppose I have been reflecting on my own actions a lot lately,” and the eulogy that would have gotten him. He realized he would have been glad not to hear it. Maybe he didn't have it in him to do grand gestures of kindness but he could try at least to be kinder. That came with showing Alex how to live her lycanthropy better, helping his neighbors replace into a new home and quite frankly changing his methods. This wouldn't change how he got successful or buy him a ticket to heaven but peace of mind was good enough.

“Trying this thing called kindness,” he took a sip and didn't even grimace when he said that last word. “I wouldn't be doing a good job at that if I refused to see the good in you,” if you put aside some quirks that were anything but usual, the version of Rhett he had been around was nothing like the one he imagined the girls had faced. It didn't change what he had done, but Alan couldn't unsee it, or pretend he didn't appreciate him. “I have a lot of reasons to despise myself but I don't think I'd even try changing if there was no one to give me hope that it’ll be okay,” he looked up from the fireplace, at last, to set his eyes on the hunter. “I don't hate you, because you are so much more.” 

—

He didn't deserve it, he knew that. Alan making an effort to see the goodness in him was a waste, but was it fair to tell the man that? He'd likely just argue it, anyway. But Rhett knew better than anyone that he wasn't worth anyone's pity or concern, not for all the hellish things he'd done in his life. He didn't deserve his daughter, who seemed to love him unconditionally in spite of those terrible things, or perhaps because of them, because she felt like she could fix him. But there was nothing left to fix. The warden could claim to be retired, he could claim to have no interest in hunting intelligent supernatural species anymore, but the damage was done. The bias was there, and it was never going away. He'd never be able to love his girl the way he should, he'd never be able to look past the things that made him and Alan so different. He could lie and say he was, but deep down, he knew. He was a hunter. He was a tool, raised for one thing, and he'd been doing it for forty years. There was more bad in him than good, and anyone who knew hunters would know that he didn't have the time to make up for it. 

But... if that's what Alan chose to see, that small percentage of decency, who was Rhett to say he shouldn't? Life was fucking lonely enough already. 

He shook his head like he didn't really believe what Alan was saying, the silent response cut with a soft sigh. “Flattered you think so,” he finally responded. He wasn't confirming that Alan was right or wrong, just that it was nice to hear. Because... it was. For better or worse, Rhett and Emilio clung to one another like they were the only thing keeping each other afloat, and sometimes Rhett wondered if that wasn't the truth. They were family, but that didn't mean that Emilio saw anything in Rhett that he liked. He loved him, unconditionally, just like Ophelia... but that didn't make it right. That didn't mean that Rhett was worth saving, it didn't mean that the warden had any chance of changing again. 

He glanced over and found Alan looking back at him, and his throat tightened. “Don't mean it'll be okay, though. Caused a lotta damage. Figure there's plenty'ah folks that ain't gonna forgive me.” I shouldn't be staying in this town, he thought, but I have to if I want any kind of relationship with my daughter. “I'd leave, if not for...” The thought drifted away from him, dead in the air. If not for her. If not for Emilio. If not for the one person that doesn't have to like him, who shouldn’t like him, still giving him a chance. Alan. 

“Guess I just don't want you gettin' the wrong sorta idea, mate. Too mercurial for anythin' like that. Not long for this world, considerin'.” Don't get attached, was what he was trying to say. “So don't go givin’ me anythin' more than I've earned, aye?” Which was next to nothing. Polite company, someone to spend the night with. He hoped Alan could understand.

—

“I think we’re both old enough to know saying it will be okay doesn't fix much, but…” he fell silent. “What I'm trying to say is don't overthink it. You’re not alone, and that has to be a relief, hasn't it?” Or maybe that was just Alan speaking out loud, reflecting on his own needs. He found relief in having his family, yes, but it weighed a lot, knowing that he was lying to them every full moon. He had missed, over the last ten years, a good share of family events that had the misfortune of happening on one of these evenings.

He offered the other man a slight smile. He didn't have much more to offer in terms of comfort. Yes, there would be folks coming at him for revenge, and perhaps they’d want more than Alex had gotten here. He knew the sentiment. 

Now all Rhett could hope for was for these people to see his cane and eye patch and realize that someone had been quicker than them at getting back at him. That was also what Alan could hope for. 

“Rhett, I don't want to alarm you, but you’re being extremely gentle here,” he teased, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and wrinkling his eyes. It was also quite clumsy, but what else did he expect from the New Zealander? The werewolf reached out, plucking flyaway hair from the hunter's cheek and pushing it back behind his ear. “I’m fine with what we have,” he finally stated. “I’ll let you know if that changes,” it wasn't reasonable to expect much more at his age, with his track record. “Another glass of Martinique rum?” 

—

It was a relief. Rhett nodded to indicate as much, but let the man's words roll around in his head in quiet contemplation. He'd been overthinking a lot of things lately, since thinking was all he could fucking do. 

Whatever will be will be. There was no point in agonizing over it. Worrying wouldn't make anything better or prevent the inevitable… so he may as well just focus on existing in the moment. 

When Alan accused him of being gentle, the warden scoffed as if offended, though he did wear a slight grin at the same time. “Shut up,” he grumbled, not seeing the hand coming his way until it was touching his face. He tried not to flinch but was only partially successful, and an attempt to mask it was made as he turned his head again to look at Alan. His expression was… difficult to read. On the one hand, he was glad for the company. On the other… Alan was a werewolf. And sure, that boundary had been crossed some months ago already, but he hadn't known this then. If he had, he would have killed him. Tried, anyway. Probably ended up worse than he was now. 

Alan was a werewolf, but he was also a friend. One of the very few that Rhett actually had, and certainly the only one willing to offer physical comfort—a thing the warden hadn't been aware he so desperately wanted until it had been given. He glanced at his emptied glass when Alan offered to refill it, and sighed. He'd promised Ophelia he wouldn't be hungover in the morning, but… “Sure,” he conceded, and when Alan had finished pouring from the bottle, he motioned for him to turn around. “Now, ‘bout that shoulder…” His hands quickly found a home on the correct side of Alan's neck, uncharacteristically cautious in the way they applied pressure meant to soothe, listening for any sounds of discomfort. The two-handed action was interrupted only as he moved one to grab his glass and take a sip. “Call me gentle again ‘n I'll make ya regret it,” he teased back as both thumbs dug into the muscle with care.

—

It was Alan’s turn to flinch, then. Clearly he wasn't scared too much by the hunter’s presence, but his shoulder had been giving him a hard time and while the idea of Rhett’s rough hands meddling with it didn't sound like a good one on paper, it didn’t prove so bad for now.

His nerves relaxed, and the werewolf who had no reason to feel uncomfortable by his own doing, rested his weight against the back of the couch, letting the hunter's fingers knead his tired shoulder. Alan found himself thinking of what his reaction could have been. 

A year ago, if Alex had told him of Rhett’s wrong doings, the werewolf would not have thought about it at all. He would have found him and attempted to put a more permanent end to the threat. 

While he was leaning into the hunter's definitely gentle touch, Alan’s smile grew up to his eyes. That wasn't supposed to be his reaction to a threat but in this instant it was difficult to feel anything but safe and warm. 

“I’m glad we had this conversation,” not as eye opening as figuring out the other could be soft, but certainly important. “I always feel lighter telling people I…” 

He still had his difficulties admitting to caring for others, even if he showed it in every way but words. 

“Well, telling them the truth. I hope you feel lighter knowing you’re not lying to me either.”

—

“Aye,” was all Rhett could say to the sentiment, struggling even more than his counterpart to admit when he gave a shit about someone. All other soft dialogue was shoved back into a trunk and locked away, the key discarded carelessly somewhere in the maze of barren rooms that made up his mind. His stubbornness would always put up a fight, a staunch refusal to accept such things boiling down into denial that kept him, in a way, at arm’s length from everyone. Not literally, of course—hands worked deftly at easing the pain in Alan’s shoulder, quite practiced in the motions after so many years of performing them on himself after difficult hunts. 

The silence that settled between them was comfortable, neither feeling the need to fill it with inanity, talking for the sake of talking. Anyway, Rhett was terrible with chit chat, a fact that Alan seemed to have already understood and internalized. He was grateful for it. 

His fingers slipped beneath the collar of Alan’s shirt in the front, sliding over bare skin to the scar on his shoulder that he now knew came from a werewolf. Still massaging with the other hand, Rhett drifted his fingertips over the uneven skin, his gaze flicking up to Alan’s profile. He’d never killed a werewolf before. Had a good idea of what it’d take, and it sure as hell didn’t sound easy. Not only that, but the man’s earlier insinuation that he could’ve been turned by now was… well, accurate, for one, but it was a thought that elbowed its way to the forefront of his mind as he took in the other’s visage. What was it like, he wondered. Losing control like that, but on such a strict schedule. How did Alan cope with it? How many people had he killed? How many hunters? When had Rhett stopped being just another body to add to the pile and started being something worth protecting? 

He was reminded, for a moment, of Emilio and how he had tried to protect the people in his life from Rhett. Funny, how the roles had been reversed. It was a perspective that he’d do well to think on for a while, but as his hands became distracted from their duty, wandering farther from Alan’s shoulder, so too did his thoughts. They were already quite close, but the warden leaned in to speak into his ear. 

“Mind if I stay here tonight?” 

—

“Aye indeed,” there was no denying that Alan, as respectful of silence as he was, was usually a little more talkative. It wasn't that he and Rhett had nothing more to say to each other but their conversation had been quite trying and the werewolf didn't want to go back there just yet. The subject would probably come back on the agenda later. Alan had a lot to make up for, too. Not that he had harmed Rhett, but among the hunters who had passed through his clutches, there were some who would come back to haunt him one day. He sometimes hoped that the large number of wolves in the region protected him. In truth, he knew nothing about it. Maybe no one was looking for him, and maybe living worried was the worst punishment he would have to endure.

Distracted by his thoughts, he was quick to notice that the hunter's hands had taken a more direct approach, and after a brief glance over his shoulder, unbuttoned the first few buttons of his white shirt to let him further examine the hideous scar that he had on his shoulder, now adorned with a second scar, more marked, recent, blistered. That silver bullet had left quite a mess.

When Rhett had flinched, Alan had told himself that his condition made him unattractive, even repulsive to the hunter, and he would have understood if that had been the case. Although he behaved like someone who had everything under control, that was how he managed to hide his weaknesses and faults from everyone. According to him, it was easier to live looking perfect for everyone to see, even if it meant being alone with your pain and difficulties, because that also meant that everyone envied what he had and that sounded better than pity. Besides, people had better things to do than deal with his personal problems.

The hunter's breath against his ear was a welcome distraction, and his unpleasant thoughts gave way to a relieved sigh as he sank into sturdy arms. “I would not mind at all,” and reaching over his head to weave fingers through unruly (but softer than usual, he noted) hair, Alan shifted to the side to grant the man an affectionate kiss on the corner of his lips. 

—

The mistake had already been made, if you could call it that, so what was the point in holding back now? Rhett would gain nothing by shutting Alan out at this point except more loneliness. He'd had plenty of that over the last couple of decades, why insist that it continue unless he sought misery? Sometimes he wondered if that wasn't the case, and he just couldn't or wouldn't admit it to himself. 

Oh well. Made no difference to him now. 

The feeling of fingers in his hair elicited a soft sigh from the warden, all the hostility that typically filled his days ebbing away to make room for something softer and warmer. Was this how other people often felt? Was the cold, dark grip of a life resigned to violence his own fault, or was that something he was always destined to ride out? He couldn’t say for certain, but he did recognize that it was becoming easier to forget that anger the more time he spent around people like Ophelia and Alan. People that, for all the world, should want him dead, and yet…

He chased Alan's kiss with one of his own, angling his head to better catch his mouth fully. There was something akin to desperation in the way he grasped at Alan, like he might slip away if Rhett wasn't quick enough to show his interest, like he'd come back to his senses and realize that what the warden had done was inexcusable. He guided the man to turn and face him, his bum leg dangling uselessly off the couch as the other tucked itself beneath him. 

“Was hopin’ you'd say that,” he answered breathlessly before pulling Alan over the top of him as he laid back on the cushions. 

—

From someone who would have happily massacred him a few months ago, Alan expected hesitant gestures as if inviting him to slow down the course of things, a kind of new timidity, as if they had actually met only a few moments ago. The fervor was as much a surprise as it was a welcomed one.

All this changed a lot of things. He knew it well. But he didn't want them to become strangers again. Doubts dissipated with each kiss given, each breath shared, each sigh whispered against the skin. Running his hand through his own hair to discipline it (a futile effort if there was one right now), Alan studied him for a short moment, his eyes wandering along those long eyelashes, the pronounced bridge of his nose, the scars more or less less recent speckling the face of the hunter like a constellation traced on his skin, up until he decided it was no longer time for contemplation.

For now at least. Because it resumed later.

It was entirely dark out now, and through the large windows that faced the living room, there was nothing to see. The fire still crackled in the attic, covering white noise and outdoor sounds. Alan often had something of the sort going, if only to cover the hum of kitchen appliances, cars in the street, or any distraction that he imagined had dogs barking. 

It didn't prevent him from monitoring every breath the hunter was taking, however, his face nuzzled as it was against the crook of his neck. It was a warm, comfortable embrace, and a younger Alan would have probably agreed on greeting slumber here with just a throw blanket and a shoulder for a pillow. “How does a proper bed sound to you? Or a shower and toothbrush?” He would have rather not moved, still, the werewolf pushed himself off the couch, stepping over discarded clothes to bravely lead the way there. “Unless you’d rather stay here on your own of course.” With a glance over his shoulder, and a kind smile he disappeared around the corner.

—

As their heartbeats slowed and breaths evened out, Rhett stared blankly at the ceiling. Alan was half draped over him, perhaps the only thing keeping him from floating off into that unseen abyss that was his fractured mind. He could hear Desmond, he could see him in some capacity, like a hallucination, loudly announcing his disgust at the sight of his brother in this state. It was the same as before, the same as when Desmond realized Rhett was falling in love with Mariela. I don’t know how you’ve managed it, but you love her more than me, and you’ve only known her for six months! You’re choosing her! 

It’s not that simple, Rhett had protested, and it was certainly a sentiment that could apply to the present as well. He looked down at the semi-opaque figure of his brother that stood at his feet. I’m lonely, he told the apparition in their private, shared headspace. What the fuck does it matter? I’ll be dead this time next year anyway. Desmond shook his head and turned away, just in time for Alan to stir and say something. Rhett watched him get to his feet, his chest tight. He hesitated on the couch for a few moments before pushing himself up and grabbing his cane to follow after his bedfellow, thinking that a shower, brush, and bed all sounded pretty damn nice.

[sorchathered]

Thank you @sailor-aviator for giving me the push to try new things, I love that you champion all of our crazy ideas!

[monstersandmaw]

So I just read about Rhett the werewolf and i Love it 💖 i would love to read another part of this masterpiece 💞 like taking another step in their relationship and in your opinion who would propose first cause I would 👰💍i also would love too see Rhett as a parent since he thought he wouldn't be a good father figure i mean if that's all okey with you 💖love u 😘

I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the various parts of his story so much, and I'm not counting future installments out, but I currently have no plans to do more of Rhett's story.