Chapter Eight

If life hadn't continued to blindside Alister, then Wyatt wouldn't have been benched. That was how he felt when he'd learned that his mate had been given two weeks off. It felt like a snowball rolling downhill, but instead of getting bigger, it just kept flinging boulders in every direction.

And the biggest was still somewhere out there, possibly hurling in Alister's direction.

Mr. Mysterious.

That boulder would decimate Alister's way of life if the guy ever discovered where he was living.

But like most people, since the danger wasn't in-your-face immediate, Alister decided to ignore the problem. As far as he was concerned, he'd never met Sloane, never been sold, and Mr. Mysterious didn't exist.

Sanity safely intact.

Which was more than he could say about his favorite shorts that were destroyed two days ago in the front seat of Wyatt's car. But, the memory of why they'd been shredded still brought a smile to his face.

Alister's gaze slid over Wyatt's sinewy muscles, hard-cut and sleek like a honed cat that would either play with you or end you.

Wyatt moved around the kitchen with feline agility, every step confident as he made dinner. Two hoagie sandwiches that were stacked higher than a mouth could possibly open to enjoy a bite.

"Do you want to eat outside or chill on the couch?" Wyatt grabbed a large wooden platter, placing both sandwiches in the center, making sure to add napkins as well. Next to the platter was a large bowl of barbeque chips and two tall glasses of soda. Wyatt appeared focused on what he was doing, but Alister wondered if being sidelined bothered his mate as much as it bothered him.

Call him chicken—he'd been called worse—but so far, Alister hadn't brought up the subject.

"It's a really nice out. Low humidity," Wyatt went on, continuing as if he hadn't just asked Alister a question. "I figured we could light firepit to keep the mosquitoes away while enjoying the evening."

Alister glanced through the large window into the backyard. In the center of the yard stood a large fire ring, crafted from sturdy flagstone and surrounded by four Adirondack chairs in a rich, dark brown hue.

"I'll take the platter outside if you want to grab the bowl of chips." Wyatt placed the glasses of soda on the tray and headed for the back door.

After grabbing the bowl of chips, Alister followed him outside. The sun was beginning to set as his mate settled the platter on the wide stone ledge and lit the gas fire pit. Flames erupted, dancing and crackling as they spread over the lava rocks.

Alister placed the glasses next to the food then relaxed in one of the chairs. Wyatt sat in the chair next to him, letting out a content sigh as he leaned back and looked up at the sky.

"This is perfect." Wyatt sounded relaxed. "I can't think of a better way to end the day."

The ambiance really was tranquil. Alister's question could ruin it, but it was time to stop being a chicken. "I never asked how you felt about Sheriff Harper making you take two weeks off."

"At first, I was furious. The incident rested solely on Lowell's shoulders." His mate grabbed his sandwich and took a bite, holding up a finger as he chewed.

That same night, Paris called Alister and told him that Cannon had stopped by the hospital to check on the human. Alister was relieved that he hadn't broken the skank's jaw, which meant that his kick wasn't as forceful as he initially thought.

"Sorry, but I'm starving." The potency behind Wyatt's grin…holy hell. "Every time I turn around, you're giving me a helluva workout. A guy's gotta keep up his nourishment with such vigorous activity."

Warm heat flushed through Alister, burning his cheeks and the rest of his body. "You're the one who won't stop flinging me onto flat surfaces or against the wall every five minutes, you insatiable feen."

"I haven't heard you complain once." Wyatt took a drink of his soda, the rim of his glass nearly concealing his grin.

Alister gaped at him then laughed. "I haven't, but my tush demands tonight off for marvelous behavior."

"Your incredible tush can have whatever the hell it wants." Wyatt gave him a playful wink.

"At first, you were furious." Alister changed the subject back to the original topic.

"Now I'm glad I got the time off." Wyatt popped a few chips into his mouth. "There's no way I could be at work when just hearing you breathe makes my dick hard. I've sated my lust over a dozen times in the past two days, yet I'm ready to bend you over that chair and shove my face in your ass."

Alister took a long drink of his grape soda in hopes the cold liquid extinguished the heat building inside of him.

"I'll leash my cheetah since your tush needs a break, but all bets are off as soon as the sun rises." Wyatt reclined, stretching his powerful legs in front of him, then crossed his ankles. "Eat your food, butterfly. You have to be as hungry as I am."

"I don't know how I'm going to get my mouth around it." Alister grabbed his sandwich and turned it in different angles. "How in the hell did you bite yours without dislocating your jaw?"

"You want me to smash it down?"

"I'll just pick it apart." He tore off a piece of the thick bread and ate it, not realizing until that moment that he was famished. Constant sex really did work up an appetite.

Wyatt got up and walked into the house. When he returned, he had a plate and two slices of bread. He took Alister's hoagie and dismantled the sandwich, creating a smaller one with the thinner bread. "Here you go, handsome."

"Much better." Alister's taste buds detonated with pleasure as he took a bite of the sandwich. He moaned, savoring the combined flavors of smoked ham, salami, pickles, provolone cheese, onions, tomatoes, and lettuce. The perfect amount of Italian dressing completed the culinary masterpiece.

Now he knew why his bestie always looked on the verge of an explosive orgasm when he ate his favorite ice cream.

"Try it with the chips." Wyatt held the bowl out to him.

Alister had to swallow most of what was in his mouth to eat a chip, but his mate was right. The barbeque flavor made it even better.

"The best million-calorie sandwich I've ever eaten." He took a sip of his drink to wash it down. "If I wasn't a shifter, I would be able to hear the plaque building up in my arteries and heart."

Wyatt finished his sandwich and most of the chips. Then he reclined back, closed his eyes, and rested his entwined fingers over his firm stomach. "That hit the spot. You want to go for a run?"

"Because I'm sure my small panda can keep up with your cheetah's long strides." Alister managed to eat most of his food but didn't push himself to finish.

Wyatt glanced at him. "Your panda can hitch a ride on my back. Since I can't find a more enjoyable way to release my pent-up energy, I need to come up with an alternative solution to expel it from my body."

So far, Alister had yet to meet his mate's cheetah, and the thought excited him. "You're appealing to my lazy side. Just don't go so fast I fall off of you."

Pushing from his chair, Wyatt held out his hand. "I would never let you get hurt, butterfly."

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a secluded area of the forest with only five available parking spaces and a small wooden structure housing a single bathroom. It was dark outside, and there were no other cars in the vicinity.

As soon as Alister exited the car, a gentle breeze surrounded him with the heavenly scents of pine needles, damp moss, and sweet floral fragrances. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply, unsure of the last time he'd been in a forest, much less let his animal free to run.

Alister's eyes snapped open when Wyatt snarled. Emerging from the shadow of the trees were two strangers. Both were stratospheric, but one was beefy and had short dark hair. The other was lean, blond, and had cold, flat eyes.

The pleasure Alister had just felt from being in the forest drained from his body, replaced by deep sorrow. He stood there feeling like he wanted to bawl his eyes out as his mate moved in front of him.

Wyatt's corded muscles visibly bunched, intensity blanketing him. "Go play in a pit of fire, hellhounds," he snarled, the sound seeming to come from somewhere deep in his body.

Alister had no idea what a hellhound was. He glanced around Wyatt to get a better look and wished he hadn't. The two wore malevolent expressions that guaranteed suffering and nightmares they would enjoy every second of inflicting.

Alister shuddered and covered his hand over his mouth like he could push back the screams trapped in his throat.

"We've got no beef with you, pussy cat," Brawny replied with an arrogant grin. "We were summoned, and a deal was struck for the guy behind you." His grin disappeared. "I would tell you to step out of our way, but shifters never do as they're told."

"Get in the car, Alister," Wyatt growled. He rocked his head from one side to the other, cracking his vertebra. "I need to take care of these assholes real quick."

Although Alister didn't want to leave his mate, he would be more of a hindrance than a help. He scrambled back inside the car, locking the doors, then watched as both men advanced like impending death toward Wyatt.

Alister's heart thrashed like it was trying to break through his ribs, his hands trembling as he grabbed his phone and called Paris.

"I haven't heard from you in two days," Paris complained when he answered.

"Put Cannon on the phone!"

"Hello?" Cannon said a moment later. "What's wrong, Alister?"

"Two guys are attacking Wyatt! He called them hellhounds. They said a deal was struck for me. Please, I need you to get here and help him!"

"Where are you?" Cannon asked, alarm in his voice.

Alister had seen a sign before they'd made the turn off the main road, but he hadn't paid any attention to it. "I don't know," he said with a deep, rasping sob. "We came to the forest for a run. I can't remember what the sign said."

The phone beeped. Alister pulled it away and saw the call had dropped. He tried again but was met with dead air. He cursed and glanced up just as Wyatt buried his claws behind the blond's ear. Alister lost the ability to blink when the guy exploded into dust.

No bones, flesh, or blood. Just swirling specks of fine powder floating toward the ground.

With a violent thrust, the dark-haired hellhound drove a long, menacing blade into Wyatt's side then twisted the weapon. Just as Wyatt pivoted to face the hellhound, the guy yanked the blood-soaked blade out and plunged it deep into Wyatt's gut.

"No!" A gut-wrenching scream ripped from Alister's throat as he slammed his hands against the window.

Wyatt shifted, but the hellhound was lightning fast, stabbing the feline in the side two times before the cheetah had a chance to attack. The cheetah collapsed to the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

"Wyatt." Alister's wailing turned into fury. With a vicious snarl, he threw open the door and lunged at the hellhound with unsheathed claws.

Pulling back his arm, Alister slashed ferociously at the guy's face, leaving behind four deep gashes.

Blood spilled from the wounds, staining the hellhound's left cheek and dripping down his jaw. The guy tried to grab Alister, but he dodged and embedded his claws into the hellhound's left calf, pulling hard to inflict maximum damage.

Alister was consumed by a searing, all-consuming pain at seeing Wyatt lying in a pool of his own blood. The man he loved, who had been his everything, was just cruelly ripped away from him.

He was no longer Wyatt's butterfly.

The pain was too unbearable, too excruciating, tearing at his soul with every beat of his heart.

And in its place, a rage that burned brightly, fueled by the emptiness and anguish of losing his mate.

A menacing growl erupted from the hellhound as Alister went for the guy's back, determined to destroy the son of a bitch's spine. But before he could strike, his hair was seized with such force it felt like he was being scalped.

Alister screamed and thrashed, desperately holding onto the man's wrist as he was lifted to his feet.

The hellhound leaned in close, fire and brimstone burning in his eyes. "If I weren't bound by the bargain, I would take great pleasure in making you suffer for the rest of your pathetic existence."

The hellhound had already gotten his wish with Wyatt's death.

"Fuck. You." Alister spat in his face.

A cruel smile spread across the man's lips. "It is you who is fucked, pretty boy."

With a powerful blow, he struck Alister in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

* * * *

As Wyatt slowly regained consciousness, the harsh rays of the sun forced his eyes open, blinding him for a moment. The cheerful chirping of birds and the earthy scent of pine filled his senses as he struggled to get his bearings.

He was lying on rough, unforgiving ground surrounded by towering trees that seemed to swallow up the sky.

But it was the unmistakable metallic smell of blood that jolted him fully awake.

Alister!

Anguish hammered Wyatt as he realized he'd failed to protect his mate. The person who'd paid Sloane had also summoned hellhounds to retrieve Alister. Now, Wyatt was at a loss on how to find his mate or even the identity of the buyer.

Pushing himself off the ground, he checked his injuries, relieved that they had fully healed. He got into his car and reached for his phone in the cup holder.

The time and date displayed on his phone indicated that he had been unconscious for just under thirteen hours.

There were also twenty missed calls from Cannon, as well as missed calls from Sheriff Harper, Denali, and Morgan.

Wyatt revved the engine of his Charger and flew out of the parking lot, speeding down the main road toward town. As he pushed the speedometer past eighty, he dialed Cannon's number.

"Thank fucking god!" Cannon replied. "Where are you? Where's Alister? Tell me you two are okay."

"A hellhound kidnapped my mate." Wyatt gritted his teeth. "I managed to kill one, but the other was too fast and stabbed me multiple times before I could react."

A car appeared ahead of him. Wyatt swerved around it and continued driving, determined to get home as quickly as possible.

"The night Alister and Paris attended that party, the auction. I need to know if your mate recognized any of the guests."

"Because if you can get even one name, it's a start," Cannon finished for him. "Hold on while I ask him."

As Wyatt entered the town limits, he slowed down but was still driving over the speed limit. All he wanted to do was get home, get dressed, and then begin his search for Alister.

No matter how long it took, Wyatt would never give up on finding his mate. His determination fueled him, even as he felt crippled by the loss of Alister. His determination fueled him, even as he felt crippled by the loss of his mate.

Please let me find him soon.

"Solomon Tarne," Cannon's voice came through the phone once again. "Paris recognized him because he's shopped at Solomon's high-end stores."

"What are the names of the stores?" Wyatt asked.

"Tarne," Cannon replied. "As far as Paris knows, they're only located in Springrest where he and Alister used to live."

"Thanks."

"Whoa!" Cannon exclaimed. "You can't go after him alone, Wyatt. These are powerful and wealthy men we're dealing with. If you want any chance of finding Alister, you need to have a plan. I'm on my way to your house right now. Don't even think about leaving before I get there."

Wyatt ended the call and pressed the button to open his garage. His heart clenched when it slowly raised to reveal Alister's white Mercedes inside. Images of his sweet, na?ve mate at the mercy of some depraved individual surged through Wyatt's mind, but he pushed them away before they could break him.

As soon as he was inside his house, Wyatt sprinted up the stairs and quickly dressed.

Then he froze, staring at the pair of torn shorts on the floor near the laundry basket. His throat constricted as he picked them up and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply. Alister's scent filled his lungs and he couldn't hold back a sob.

"Stay strong, butterfly," Wyatt whispered to himself. "I promise I'll find you."

"Wyatt!" Cannon's voice boomed from downstairs.

Wyatt took one last deep breath before setting the shorts on his bed and heading downstairs. Cannon wasn't alone. Standing next to him was Ian Grant.

Ian was a panther shifter who used to be a professional preternatural snowboarder. Five years ago, he retired from the sport and settled in Midnight Falls to enjoy a slower pace of life. Rumor had it that he was worth millions, and since he was a shifter, it was likely that he had been wealthy even before his career in sports.

The man possessed the sculpted physique of a panther, as well as long, chestnut-brown hair, and almond-shaped whiskey-colored eyes.

"No offense, but why are you here?" Wyatt asked.

"You need someone with connections in high society. A well-connected individual to arrange a meeting with Solomon," Ian responded. "Brute strength alone won't get you in the door."

"And that would be you," Wyatt said.

Ian's smile radiated charm and seduction. Wyatt was certain he had used it to his advantage many times before.

"Yes, I've encountered Solomon at various charities. He projects himself as an honorable person, but behind those blue eyes lies a depraved man."

"How do you know you can arrange a meeting with him?" Time was of the essence, and he didn't want to waste any on uncertain leads. Alister needed him, and Wyatt was determined to find his mate as soon as possible.

Ian scowled, and his tone was bitter. "On multiple occasions he's made it clear he wants to sleep with me."

Wyatt was a bit surprised. Since Solomon had attended a twink auction, assumably he would be the dominant one in any relationship.

Why would Solomon make advances toward Ian—a guy who exuded a strong, alpha male energy? Ian seemed like someone who would prefer to take charge in the bedroom as well.

Then again, either man could be a versatile lover, for all Wyatt knew.

"I prefer my men a lot less scummy, but I'll tolerate his sleaziness since it means helping a mate in danger." Ian ran his hand through his long hair. "I booked us a flight while on our way here. Do you happen to own a suit?"

"No, I don't." Wyatt shook his head.

"We'll buy one for you up when we land in Springrest, but it might be wise to pack an overnight bag just in case. I'll wait for you in the car."

"Is Solomon human?" Wyatt asked before Ian made it to the door.

"Yes, but don't underestimate him for one second." Ian walked out.

"I feel like I should join you," Cannon said. "I care about Alister and I want to help find him."

"You have Paris to take care of," Wyatt said. "How's he doing?"

"Not good. He's barely keeping it together and threatened to go to Springrest himself to look for Alister." Cannon showed him a set of keys. "I took these just in case he tries to leave while I'm here."

"Why didn't you just bring him with you?"

"He's struggling with a lot of things, including his feelings towards you," Cannon confessed. "He doesn't blame you for what happened, Wyatt. He's just feeling helpless and taking it out on everyone around him."

Wyatt blamed himself. Last night replayed in his mind like a cruel movie, each scene tormenting him with the mistakes he had made. He cursed himself for not fighting with more ferocity, for his failure to stop the hellhound from taking Alister.

"Ian is waiting for me." Wyatt sprinted upstairs and packed a bag, taking one last look at the shorts before heading out to find his mate.