Carter's Tryck [Brac Pack 17] (5 page)

It was someplace one might be if having a nightmare. The place looked desolate and empty. He was starting to have seconds thought about trusting this elf. Where they stood was no place for any creature to be.

“No, this is where they dwell,” Teaky whispered.

All six shifters and the Elvin man crouched down, scanning the area. There was one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the reeds and water.

36

Lynn Hagen

Tryck’s heart plummeted when he saw the gray building that resembled a veterinarian clinic sitting on dry land.
No!
A snarl ripped from him, the familiar-looking building bringing back memories of a rescue not so far in the past.

“Isn’t that the same kind of building we found Heaven in?” Law asked quietly.

Tryck slammed his fists at his temples, rage consuming him. If they harmed one hair on Carter’s head, he would make them
all
suffer.

He didn’t wait for anyone else, Tryck belly-crawled to the outer perimeter of the building. His eyes scanned the outer wall, seeing bars on the windows. Guess the doc learned the second time around. Only this time Tryck was going to make sure the sick fuck didn’t get away.

* * * *

Carter threw his hands in front of his face when bright light flooded the room. Ahm walked in, carrying something resembling a bracelet in his hand.

“Get up.” Ahm grabbed Carter roughly by his wrist, yanking him to his feet. Carter whimpered when the Elven pulled at his arm, trying his hardest to free himself. Ahm closed the bracelet around his wrist, a snick indicating that it had locked into place.

“Get it off,” Carter cried, pulling manically at the trinket. Ahm backhanded him into the wall, Carter’s head hitting it with a loud crack. He grabbed his head, pain shooting through it and dizziness assailing him. He could feel something warm trickling down the side of his scalp.

“Learn to obey,” Ahm snarled, and then yanked Carter’s arm roughly, leading him from the room. As soon as Carter cleared the door, he tried to shimmer. Nothing happened.

Ahm laughed satanically. “The bracelet stops you from shimmering. A little invention we Shadow Elves came up with.”
Carter’s Tryck

37

Carter tried once again to remove the bracelet that now felt like a weighted shackle. He dropped to the floor before Ahm’s hand connected with his face, his hands protectively over his head. He may have called himself a Sentinel when he introduced himself to Maverick, but that was a title the others in his tribe had given him when sent to retrieve Avantiana, now known as Melonee.

He wasn’t a Sentinel, had never been in an altercation in his life.

He now knew that his tribe had tricked him and threw the honorific title at him just so he would be the one to go retrieve the little girl—it had meant nothing to them. How could he have been so blind to them? He was no warrior. But now he found himself in need of such skills. Carter struggled as Ahm pulled him to his feet. He fought to free his arm, but the bracelet was locked tight to his wrist.

Ahm pulled him down a narrow hallway, forcefully shoving him into a room that resembled a hospital. He had been in one, curiosity making him visit a human one in Seattle on one of his explorations.

He didn’t like it then, and he didn’t like it now.

“Place him up on the table,” a man in a white lab coat instructed Ahm.

Carter squirmed and wiggled, fighting desperately to get free. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but his instincts were telling him to get the hell out of there. Everything in that room screamed monstrosity. Something told him that if he was strapped to that metal table, he’d never be the same. Carter fought harder, kicking and biting as Ahm slapped him across the face.

He cried out when Ahm yanked his hair back, hissing in his face.

“I told you to obey.” The Shadow Elf picked Carter up and dropped him on the table. The doctor and Ahm pulled leather straps from under the table and secured his wrists and ankles. Carter’s eyes darted around wildly as the doctor pulled his shirt up and prodded at his belly.

“He’ll make a fine specimen.”

38

Lynn Hagen

Carter’s body shook lying on the cold, steel table. He wanted Tryck. Where was his mate? Tears rolled down the side of his face and into his hairline.
Please, I’ll do anything if you’ll let me get out of
this,
Carter begged inside his head.

His lungs seized when the doctor came back to the table with a syringe. Carter pulled at his restraints. “Please,” he begged softly.

“Please, don’t.”

Ahm grabbed his chin roughly, turning Carter’s head to face the empty eyes, void of any and all emotions. “Beg all you want, no one is going to help you.”

A roar ripped through the room. Carter tried to turn his head to see, but was unable to do so. The doctor paled, dropping the syringe and backing away. He tried once again to turn his head, but there was no need to. A large wolf came into view, attacking the cringing doctor.

Carter panicked, pulling so hard at his restraints that the leather had cut into his skin, blood welling up from under the straps. He bit back a sob, smashing his eyes closed, praying the wolves didn’t kill him as well.

Why couldn’t he see his mate once more, the other half of his soul? In what he could only assume were his last moments, Carter pulled up images of eyes so blue they reminded him of the ocean. A face shadowed in beard growth dying to be nuzzled, long wavy brown hair that he wished he could have touched, caressed.

What he wouldn’t give to kiss those pouty lips, so full and tempting. Carter felt calmness come over him, the image of Tryck soothing him.

“Come,
gatito
.”

Wow, he could even hear his soft and thick voice. Was it over?

Did the wolf kill him already? Carter couldn’t bear to open his eyes.

He was terrified of what he might see. He felt tugging at his limbs and then strong arms pull him up.

Carter’s Tryck

39

Carter curled into that familiar scent, allowing the darkness to pull him under.

* * * *

“
Gatito
?” Tryck ran his hand over his mate’s face, felt the pulse at his neck. A relieved breath swooshed from his lungs. His mate had only passed out.

Tryck stepped over the dead body on the floor. The good doctor could only experiment on hell’s demons now. The other Timber wolves were fighting the Smurfettes, Tryck had only one thing on his mind—getting his mate home safely.

He made his way through the clinic, pushing the front door open with his shoulder as he carried his mate back to where they had left their clothing. Tryck lay his mate down on the foliage gently, quickly dressing before picking him back up. Carter was limp in his arms, his lips slightly parted as his head lulled back.

Tryck growled when he saw the dried blood in his mate’s hair.

That beautiful spun gold shouldn’t be marred with crimson. He smelled the smoke, and knew his brothers had taken care of the building. He wouldn’t shed a tear for anyone in there. Their days of playing God were over. May they burn in hell.

“Where the hell is Teaky?” Tank asked when the others joined him. Remi had a gash under his eye—something a shift would heal in no time—the rest of the shifters looking no worse for the wear.

“If he screwed us over, I’m going to kill him. I have no fucking clue where we are.” Maverick cursed, slowly spinning around, scanning the area.

Tryck spun around, protecting his mate’s limp form as a body began to shimmer in front of them. No one was getting Carter again.

He would fight to the death to protect what was his.

40

Lynn Hagen

Teaky finally appeared, and the shifters automatically grabbed each other’s hands as the Elvin man shimmered them back to the makeshift village.

“Can you take my bike back?” It rankled Tryck to ask Maverick for a favor, but he wasn’t letting Carter go. It also irritated him because
no one
had ever ridden his baby before.

Instead of the smart-ass reply he expected from the Alpha, Maverick only nodded and climbed on to his hog.

Tryck climbed into the back of the SUV, Tank driving and Remi riding shotgun. Once they hit the gravel drive, Tryck slid over, ready to hop out and get his mate inside. He walked through the front door, ignoring the stares from the den as he climbed the stairs two at a time, kicking his bedroom door closed behind him.

He’d find out later what happened after he left the building. Right now all he wanted was to hold his mate. Grabbing the comforter from the bed, Tryck settled in the cushioned chair that sat in one corner of his bedroom.

He wrapped it around Carter’s frail-looking body, settling back.

“Wake for me,
bebé
.” Tryck stroked his face, taking in his features now that Carter was stationary for longer than five minutes.

The Elvin creature was breathtaking. Tryck traced the shell of his elegant ear, smiled at how dainty it seemed. It came to a cute little point. He loved the golden hair that framed his face like a veil of magic, but what he wanted to see the most was those beautiful golden eyes.

“Tryck,” Carter moaned, his eyes fluttering open. Tryck ran his fingers down his mate’s face, happy to see him finally waking up.

“I have you,
gatito
.”

Carter’s eyes blinked a few times, they grew wide with horror, and then his mate started clawing at him. “I didn’t break my promise, I swear,” he cried hysterically. “I didn’t break my promise. I didn’t.” Tryck wrapped his arms around the screaming man, holding him in a vise to prevent him from hurting either of them. “Hush, I know,”
Carter’s Tryck

41

he repeated over and over again. Tears threatened to spill from Tryck as Carter kicked and bucked.

“No, no, no,” his mate sobbed, grabbing at Tryck desperately.

“Oh, God.” Carter lay in his arms openly crying.

Tryck held onto his mate, tucking Carter’s face into his neck. “I have you.” Tryck did something he never thought he would. He began to softly sing to his mate in his native Spanish tongue. He sang a song his mother used to sing to him when he was a frightened pup.

He rocked his mate, starting the song over from the beginning.

Carter lay in his arms crying as Tryck sang in his ear.

The crying lessened, Carter clinging to him as Tryck began the song again for a third time. He rocked back and forth, putting every tender emotion into the lyrics that he had kept hidden for so long.

His mate finally settled, his body gave up its rigid stance, and Carter soon fell asleep. Tryck continued to quietly sing, rubbing circular patterns around his mate’s back. He never wanted to see Carter like this again.

The singing ceased, Tryck staring out of the large widows that ran from floor to ceiling, out into the foliage of the backyard. Carter hiccupped, his delicate fists clenching, and then relaxing again in his sleep.

Tryck stayed in that chair, rocking his mate and watching the shadows of the setting sun slowly creep across his room. He held on to what fate had given him, someone he could finally call his own.

* * * *

Johnny came barreling into the den, jumping up into the air as he ran. “I’m going to be a godfather!” He ran around the pool table, giggling, and raced around the couches, finally stopping in front of the other mates. “But I don’t have to whack anybody.”

“No way!” The other mates jumped up. “Gabby’s pregnant?”
42

Lynn Hagen

“Uh-huh. He just officially asked me to be the godfather.” Johnny puffed his chest out in pride.

“I hope he likes vomiting,” Heaven muttered as he picked one of his sons up. Blair helped Heaven with the other twin, carrying them upstairs.

“I hope he has twins like Heaven.” Drew grinned. “Two chatter boxes running around here.” He laughed.

“Will the baby be a vampire or a shifter?” Kyoshi asked.

“Guess we’ll find out when it’s born.” Nero nodded his head.

“More babies.” Keata whooped while doing a happy dance.

“Well, congratulations, Johnny.” Oliver tapped knuckles with him.

Johnny beamed at all of them. He was going to be the best godfather ever.

* * * *

Carter slowly came awake. Where was he? He noticed right away a heavy weight on his back. He stiffened, looking around until the room came into focus, a familiar smell infiltrating his nostrils.

Tryck.

Carter was lying on his stomach, Tryck draped over his back, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. He tried to wiggle from under the heavy weight, but Tryck only pulled him further under, his heavily-muscled arm tucking under Carter’s chest, sufficiently locking him into place.

Carter jerked his shoulder, “Hey, Biker Bob, wake the hell up.

You’re crushing me.” The shifter grunted and snorted but continued to sleep.

Carter wedged a hand from underneath him and pulled at Tryck’s hair, noticing the bracelet still on his arm. The events of the day before came flooding back. He blinked back the tears, his head was already hurting from his previous nervous breakdown.

Carter’s Tryck

43

His cheeks burned from the remembrance of crying in Tryck’s arms.
How embarrassing.
Carter wedged his other arm out. The man must weigh a ton. He pulled at the bracelet, flattening his thumb into the palm of his hand at an attempt to pull it off.

Carter stilled when Tryck began to nuzzle his neck. Oh crap, he prayed the man was doing it in his sleep, because if he was awake, oh crap.

“Are you feeling better,
gatito
?” the deep, whiskey-filled voice asked softly in his ear. Yep, he was awake. Oh man, he was awake and kissing his neck. Carter wasn’t sure what he should do.

Shimmering was out of the question. Even if Tryck wasn’t touching him, the damn bracelet prevented it.

He was stuck like a tongue to a cold metal fence. He had to admit, it did feel rather nice. Carter shivered when Tryck pulled his hair aside, kissing the nape of his neck.