Abandoned and Unseen (Branded Packs #2)(3)

He opened his mouth in an exaggerated yawn. She’d yelled at him for this before, and it wasn’t his fault. The cubs were, like she’d just said, curious. If they wanted to play with his tail, then he’d let them. They weren’t hurting him, and Anya needed to breathe.

“You’re an *,” she snapped. “So freaking lazy you can’t even turn back to human and defend yourself. Some Tracker the cats have. Leave my boys alone. If they come back here, send them back to me. Or come get me. I don’t want them out on their own. I’m all they have, Tracker. I’m not going to let them get hurt because you think it’s fun to break my rules.”

First, he wasn’t going to shift because he’d be naked. And being naked near her when he had a hard-on—because, come on, she was freaking sexy—wasn’t worth risking his life after she got a look at him sporting wood because of her. Second, he wasn’t lazy, he just picked his battles. As for her boys? Next time, he might just send them back. She had a point when it came to safety. He would never hurt them—they were cubs—but there were human patrols coming through the compound at all times. He wouldn’t see those boys hurt because the humans were in the wrong. However, he wasn’t going to shift and tell her this. She didn’t want to hear it. She had her own reasons for being angry, he suspected, and him defending himself wouldn’t help. Instead, he swished his tail, his eyes on hers.

She lifted her lip in another snarl then threw up her hands. “I can’t with you.” She turned on her heel and stomped back toward her home. He couldn’t help but watch the way her jeans hugged her ass as she did so. She was one sexy blonde Amazon of a woman. Not for him, but it didn’t hurt to look.

“I see you’re making all kinds of friends,” Gibson drawled as he slid through the trees.

Cole had scented the wolf come up a few moments before but hadn’t let on to Anya. He wasn’t sure she’d noticed the man there since she’d been so focused on Cole. Plus, with all the new smells around her, he knew it would take a bit longer than a couple of weeks for her to get her bearings when it came to the different scents of the compound. He didn’t want to see her embarrassed for her outburst in public. And he didn’t know how he felt about that last thought. Instead of dwelling on it, he stretched, lifting his back in a curl before jumping down to the forest floor. With a shake, he shifted back to human. It was fast, a painful reminder that his body held two forms that didn’t quite mesh when one thought of the physics behind it.

“Get some pants on,” Gibson said smoothly. He ran a hand through his dark black hair that always ended up in his face. The damn man had one of those emo rocker haircuts that looked like it took an hour to get perfect each morning. Though Cole knew it just came naturally to the wolf. “You’re late for your appointment, and I don’t need to see your bare ass.”

“It’s a cat ass,” Cole said with a grin and shook it before bending over to grab the pair of sweats he’d left in a nearby bush.

“I so didn’t need to see that. I think I’m blind.”

Cole smiled wide as he slid his sweats over his hips. “You know you liked it.”

The wolf flipped him off, the ink on his fingers standing out against his pale skin. “I might like cock and * equally, but that doesn’t mean I want yours, *.”

“Like I said, you like my *.”

Gibson let out a groan.

“See, you’re groaning.” Cole smacked the man on his back and started walking. “I don’t know how you ever lived without me.”

“It was much easier, let me tell you,” Gibson muttered.

Gibson muttered a lot, but also talked Cole’s ear off when he wanted to. The other man didn’t speak much according to the rest of the Pack. He apparently liked Cole enough to open himself up a bit more. He was the Pack tattoo artist, in charge of not only personal ink, but also the ritual ink that came with being a mate, a Pack member, and a shifter. The three emblems blended into one full tattoo once a shifter found their mate, though most of the Pack members only held two—the brand the humans forced them to wear that Gibson tattooed over, and the tattoo that signified what Pack they were born or made into. He did that work for wolves alone, but he also did other work—like the piece he was doing for Cole—for the other shifters. There was a feline artist, the one who had done the ritual work on Cole’s forearm, but he liked Gibson’s work better. Not that he’d ever say that. People may be pissed about him and Gibson’s friendship, and that he let the other man work on his back, but the rest of the shifters would just have to get over it. The three Packs had been forced to live in one small compound—times were changing, and hating one another for being a different kind of shifter had to be pushed into the past if they were to survive.

“You’re looking serious over there,” Gibson said as they walked into the wolf’s home. He pointed to the chair near the tattoo station and lifted his chin. “Sit. I’ll get you ready. Now, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Cole did as he was told. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, so he didn’t have to deal with that. “I thought you didn’t like to speak while doing this. That’s what Holden said.” Holden was the wolf Alpha. He’d married a newly-turned human a couple of months back, and that had been the catalyst for not only the move of the Packs but so much more.