Jacks, Marcy - Mason Returns to His Mate [DeWitt's Pack 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic Man by Marcy Jacks (free novel reading sites .TXT) 📗

Mason under the arms, trying to keep the both of them up, but then the gun blasted again, and Derek felt like his hands had exploded with fire.

Mason actually smiled at him as they went down.

“It’s okay. It’s all right,” he seemed to say, though he had no voice at all. Maybe Derek just had trouble hearing him through the screams of the hunter who’d shot at them.

Derek looked over Mason’s shoulder. It seemed the kid had either

forgotten about old Maggie or had dismissed her as a threat since she  was a nude elderly lady. She’d transformed back into her larger-thanlife arctic wolf and currently had her paws down on the boy’s chest.  She was eating his face, tearing away at the flesh on his chest, as well  as his hands and arms when he tried to push her off.

He was no match, and eventually his screaming stopped, and the  white fur of the arctic wolf was stained and spattered with red blood.

Mason stopped moving on top of Derek, but he could still feel the  heartbeat of the man against his chest. He was still alive, but the  heartbeat was weak and fluttery.

Derek looked down at his hands. He was still clutching at  Mason’s back, but his hands were bloody and gory as all hell. The  fingertips on his index finger on the right hand and the pinky on the  left were missing, and it looked as though his ring finger was nearly  blown away right at the midknuckle. He could see the white of the  bone, and it was hanging on by he wasn’t sure what.

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He  looked away, refusing to move his hands because he wanted to keep Mason as close to him as possible, and he didn’t want to remind his body that he was supposed to be in severe pain right now.

God, he wished he hadn’t looked down.

There was no doubt in his  mind that the pellets were silver, and from what he’d seen of his hands and Mason’s back, they were big pellets, too.

Mason was dying. He could tell with every second his heart delayed.

Derek felt himself drifting off, but wasn’t sure if his wounds were

enough to be killed over. He only saw his hands. Where else had he

been hit?

He closed his eyes, still clinging to his mate, hoping that wherever

Mason went, he would be sure to take Derek along with him.

* * * *

When Derek came to, everything on him throbbed with pain. He clenched his hands without thinking about it and then screamed for the agony that small act had caused him.

It was only then that he realized he couldn’t breathe, and he struggled harder, the thundercracks of pain only encouraging him to fight harder, to get out of the water, to breathe.

He was finally let up for air, and he shot up with a choked gasp, water flying everywhere as he flailed around like a drowning animal, which was probably the most accurate description of himself at the

moment.

Strong hands grabbed hold of his shoulders, helping him to get his footing.

Mason! Derek gripped the arms attached to those hands and held on tight, and one of those hands smacked him on the back, and suddenly, after only a bit more choking, he could  breathe again.

He looked up, and the face he saw was not Mason’s. It was James

114                          Marcy Jacks

who had held him under the water, and his scarred face held worry for  him as he gripped his upper arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Derek lifted his hands to get another look  then wanted to cry. This  water, this strange, amazing, wonderful water, had managed to heal  his wounds, and while everything was stiff, his middle finger bent  properly. The bone hadn’t been compromised.

The water knit skin back together pretty well, but it seemed it did  not regrow bones and lost limbs because the tips of two of his fingers  were still missing, giving his hands a sort of uneven look about them  that he did not like in the least.

“Where else was I shot?” Derek asked.

“Your shoulder took some of the pellets, and so did your leg. We  picked them out before putting you under for a swim, though, and we  got you in here pretty quick. I don’t think you’ll scar.”

James’s eyes still flickered down to Derek’s hands. He should be  grateful he still had them  period and that they were practically at a  hundred percent mobility, but he couldn’t help but sulk a little at the  ugliness of the missing fingertips.

He looked around, expecting to see Mason in the water with him.  His heart starting hammering when he didn ’t spot his lover anywhere  at all.

“Mason?” he asked. He wanted to know and didn’t at the same

time. Christ, if James told him that Mason had died, Derek was going  to have a shit fit. He thought he just might die himself.

If they were mated, shouldn’t Derek be feeling it if Mason had  died? Wouldn’t he know? Wouldn’t he have followed the man?

James took away all those questions with a single answer. “He’s alive. He was in the water long before you were, and now he’s back at the house with Maggie.”

The relief Derek felt actually made his legs quake. He’d never felt anything like that before in his entire life.

“How is he? Is he awake?” Already Derek was wading out of the

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water. His legs were sore as hell, but he needed to get out of here and  see Mason. He needed to look at him with his own eyes to confirm he  was all right and breathing. The fact that Mason wasn’t here with  Derek right now could only mean that, despite the healing power of  the water, he hadn’t woken up, so he wasn’t really sure why he’d  bothered with asking.

“He’s still unconscious last time I checked, but we’ll be expecting  him to wake up soon enough. You should know that the damage to his  skin was pretty severe before we put him in the water.