Kidnapped by the Werewolf Hunter [DeWitt's Pack 13] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) by Marcy Jacks (books that read to you .TXT) 📗

He couldn’t let them do this. They had to untie him or he was never going to be able to save Cole. Dan put his free hand down on Cole’s thigh and was getting ready to inject him with whatever the hell was in that needle, and Everett’s panic turned up a notch.

“Luke, please, he’s the reason I became a hunter. You know how I feel about him. You know I can’t watch this. At least untie me and then tie me to another tree. Don’t make me watch this.”

Luke looked at him with slightly raised brows, but then turned to Dan anyway. “Could I—?”

“No, you can’t,” Dan snapped over his shoulder. “If he can volunteer to help kill this thing, then he can volunteer to stand there and watch us do all the work. You should be thanking us for this, King.”

Everett really started to struggle. Fuck this, he couldn’t do it. They weren’t going to untie him, and he needed to get out! He couldn’t let them do this!

“Stay the fuck away from him, you psycho! Don’t touch him!”

Dan looked over his shoulder at Everett. “Nice to know you can trick this idiot here. Now if you don’t mind.” Dan turned back to Cole, but by now Cole must’ve realized that Everett wasn’t going to be able to help him and that he was on his own.

He snapped his eyes open, and with a shout, he managed to break the table beneath him with the force of his struggles, but not the chains. He didn’t even have the chance to roll away before Luke ran up to help Dan keep him down, and then Dan pierced the needle into Cole’s hip and pressed down on the plunger.

It took about a second after Dan had pulled the needle out before Cole opened his mouth and screamed in pain.

Chapter Nine

Phillip Keyes felt his ears twitch before his brain registered that there had even been a noise. He looked up, expecting to see another bear or something.

The bears annoyed him the most. Scavengers, the lot of them, and they were worse than any coyote or raccoon.

He was in his wolf form, so he thought he could handle whatever problem would come his way, even though he still sort of wished that the wild animals would pick him off already. It wasn’t like he was making it difficult for them, but he hadn’t been in a fight with a wild animal for nearly a month, and he was starting to think that his death wish wasn’t about to come true.

There was nothing there. Nothing that he could see, at any rate. He wasn’t exactly making an effort to hide himself, and he couldn’t tell how long he’d been sleeping for. He was starving, he knew that much.

Maybe that was why the animals left him alone. He looked too wasted and sick to bother eating.

He was about to put his head back down and try to pass out again. The little shrubs he was wedged between didn’t offer him much protection, but they did shade his face from the morning light.

He’d had the strangest, loudest dream, and now he had a headache that he didn’t want to deal with. Maybe he would wake up and try hunting for food tomorrow.

The sound came again, and this time he did more than open his eyes. He lifted his head and stood up.

Now that he was awake, he recognized that sound.

Someone was screaming. Someone was being tortured.

His nostrils flared, and he shot off in the direction of the painful sound.

Not again. Not again. He couldn’t save his mate. He couldn’t protect Helen as they tortured and skinned her alive, but he was going to do everything in his limited power to make sure that no hunter bastards killed anymore of his kind. It might even be just a bunch of humans who’d kidnapped and were torturing another human, he didn’t care.

The sound pumped adrenaline through his tired body, and now he wanted to fight.

It took him five minutes of hard running, and that entire time the scents and sounds became louder and more pronounced, before he made it to the place where the horror was going down.

He skid to a quick halt at the top of a small hill just before the trees and shrubs cleared.

The scent of blood hung thickly in the air. Phillip was surprised that no other predators had bothered coming to check out the smell.

He was the only one at the top of the hill, but not the only werewolf, it seemed.

There was a broken plastic table sitting in pieces over by a tree. The man who was tied to the ground with pikes had probably broken it in his attempt to escape the men who were inflicting his wounds onto him. The scent of his blood masked his natural scent, but with the way the camp was set up, and how the two men were dressed, it was clear that these were hunters, and they’d just caught themselves a wolf.

There was a tent as well that had been set up beside a few four-wheelers, one of which looked like it had crashed into a tree or something.

Under the scent of burning oil, he got the smell of another bleeding person within. The heartbeat pumped slowly. Either sleeping or dying. The wolf must’ve bitten whoever was inside. At least that meant that Phillip wouldn’t have to worry about three hunters. Two was bad enough.

He turned his attention back to the scene before him. Both hunters were kneeling over their captive, and there was an assortment of tools and liquids lines up next to them. Likely some of that was silver as well, and they’d already started cutting the poor man in several places.

Death by a thousand cuts. Phillip shivered.

“Stop that! Fucking stop that!” screamed a hoarse voice.

Phillip looked over to the other tree that was practically beside the spot where the torture was taking place. He had to