7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

As Maltin picked him up, Jack turned ravenous all over again. The man wasn’t that much bigger than he was, but he picked Jack up off that car like he weighed nothing at all and carried him up the metal stairs and through the door to the loft.

Jack’s eyes never left him. It was incredible how much he felt for the man. In a short time, he couldn’t imagine his life without Maltin. It was crazy, but the way he felt, besides being completely aroused, was warm in a whole other way.

It resided in his chest, a burning, comforting feeling steeped in excitement for his future. As terrified as he’d been that he was a devil dog or whatever the fuck he was, he felt a new hope blooming there.

Maltin stopped in the middle of the loft, his stare into Jack’s eyes letting Jack know he wasn’t alone in his feelings. “Jack, are you okay?”

“I’m great. Amazing, actually.”

“Me too. I’m not done with you.”

Jack’s deep laugh didn’t even sound like him, but he also knew he wasn’t the same man any longer.

He was taken to the bedroom and thrown onto a linen duvet on the incredibly comfortable bed. The only time he took his eyes off Maltin was when the accent pillows bounced and were disheveled from his landing.

The bedroom was much like the rest of the loft, with a head and footboard made of galvanized pipe. The headboard curved into a high peak, and the bedding was a combination of raw linen and cotton, with two strips of silk running down and black “rivets” accenting them.

He felt like he was home and not in that big, cold home where he was raised. Instead, he lay naked on fine linens while the most beautiful man he’d ever seen stared heatedly down at him.

“Turn over and give me your ass.”

If he got any hotter, that beautiful duvet would be in ashes. Feeling sluggish, like he was drugged, Jack turned to his stomach, letting his face lie against the duvet, thinking briefly how much nicer that felt to the cold metal of the car hood.

When he heard Maltin’s grunting voice, he was shocked at what was being said.

“Where are the marks I left on you?”

For a second, he didn’t understand, then he remembered how deeply Maltin’s nails had cut into his ass and the bites on the back of his neck. With his left hand, he felt over his neck, but the skin had fused back together in the short time it had taken Maltin to carry him up the stairs. He tried to look at his ass but couldn’t quite twist enough. “Are they gone too?”

“They’re gone! I marked you, and you healed them!”

It was one of the first times he’d used power, and he hadn’t even known he’d done it. “They’re gone?”

“Yes,” Maltin growled, and Jack looked at him, and was suddenly frightened. The man looked furious.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“The next time I mark your body, you will not heal them. Do you understand?”

That was a promise he couldn’t make, being he hadn’t known he’d done it, but to appease his…alpha? Was Maltin truly his alpha? Anyway, he nodded and turned back around, slamming his eyes shut.

In went the claws to his ass, but he didn’t cry out in pain. The opposite. He loved feeling Maltin in him before they were even fucking again. It felt like fire was entering the cheeks of his ass, and it lit the rest of his body. Again, he worried they’d scorch the duvet.

When Maltin was inside him again, he felt like he was whole. All his life, he’d felt a hole inside him that he thought magic could fill, and maybe that was still true. It was Maltin that was his magic. Inside Jack, Maltin filled him with that magic, and Jack no longer felt alone.

Again, Maltin didn’t hold back, and his new strength had the king-size bed pushed into the outer wall in no time. Jack heard the creaking from the metal rafters high above their heads as if Maltin’s thrusts were jarring the entire warehouse. Jack worried the roof would cave in on them.

Aware of these things, Jack found he didn’t care. The fucking he received was so amazing, he only wanted more. And deep inside him, he knew his body could handle it. All he felt was pleasure, and the pain he felt was part of that.

Long claws that had torn his shirt to ribbons were raking through the skin of his back, and still, he felt pleasure. The cock inside him seemed to grow, and all it was, was pleasure. In fact, it was so big, he felt like it could tear him in two, but all was good. He only wanted more.

His own claws, as frightening as they were curious, slashed the duvet and then went deeper, and the mattress was getting torn, too. The inside foam was coming into his fists in huge chunks, and the sunlight streamed through the window, showing the dust as if tiny fairies were dancing.

So aware of everything, even as his body was being used, his focus on his ass and the burning of the claw marks.

Accent pillows went flying, the metal headboard dented the wall, and Jack felt Maltin’s cock growing inside him with every brutal thrust. He didn’t understand it, and it was as painful as it was glorious. Still, then, when he started to orgasm, he heard a roar from Maltin that sounded nothing like Maltin at all, but he soon forgot about that as he felt the cock inside him grow so round and wide, he came immediately, and then moved his mouth to the torn duvet, huffing to keep from crying out.

Maltin pushed him fully to the bed and lay over him, then wrapped him in his arms and pulled Jack to his side. He was still inside Jack, and it felt like he couldn’t pull out of him.

“Mal…Maltin, what the fuck is going on?”

“I had…I had a dog once,” he started, making Jack want to punch him.

“A dog? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“When a bitch in heat came into the yard, Jack…they mated and…he got stuck inside of the bitch. Jack…I’m stuck,” he said, his voice returning to normal except for the fear. His fear caused Jack’s to ramp up until his heart pounded a million miles an hour.

“Maltin, are you telling me you…are stuck up my ass?”

Maltin wrapped his arms around Jack’s chest and held him lovingly. Jack didn’t know he had that kind of emotion in him. “I think I am, and I’ve heard of this with certain shifters.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been with a thousand shifters in this town, and they never…gotten stuck!”

“Jack, first of all, don’t ever remind me of your former profession. Ever. Secondly, don’t freak out because the more you move, the more it will hurt. It’s called knotting, and it’s perfectly…perfectly normal.”

Jack’s mind spun around a few times but he stayed as still as he could. That was getting hard, too, being Maltin was cooing to him, kissing his neck, trying to calm him.

“It’s okay, baby, just be mellow, stay still. You’re gonna be fine. I’m going to make sure of it. Nothing will ever hurt you again.”

Those words, how he’d longed for those words his entire life. All those nights alone, the nanny was putting him to bed, and there was no kiss from his mother or bedtime story from his father. Maltin was holding him, and Jack believed him. It was like the words seeped into his pores and traveled to his heart.

“You’re mine, Jack. I’m so happy you’re mine.”

Tears were falling from his eyes, burning his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop them. It felt like they’d been stored inside him for years, waiting for Maltin to release them.

“Maltin?”

“Yes, Jack?”

He didn’t know what to say. He only knew his emotions were churning, his heart full for the first time in his life. “Don’t…hurt me.”

“Never. I’ll never hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear it.”

When his cock shrunk back to normal and as Maltin pulled out of Jack, Jack turned in Maltin’s arms and was asleep instantly.

He was still in Maltin's arms when he woke from a dreamless sleep. Maltin was sleeping, his head sunk in the pillow, and a little smile was on his lips. Jack tried to move, but Maltin’s hold on him was tighter than he’d thought.

When he could get free, he padded to the bathroom that lay down the stairs, and once he relieved himself, he looked in the bathroom mirror, seeing that he didn’t have a scratch on him. “Damn. He’s gonna be cranky about that,” he said with a huge smile. Jack also noticed the shirt still hung around his neck by the collar, though the shirt itself was in ribbons. After discarding that, he washed up, wishing he had a toothbrush.

He looked through the cabinet above, then under the sink, but found none. Then, luckily, in the linen closet outside the bathroom, he found one and used it, parking it next to Maltin’s in the metal holder on the wall.

That was the first time he was able to stroll casually through the house, and though he felt like some creep being nosy, he thought it helped him get to know his mate.

There was art stacked in a staggered array near the big windows in the living room. Jack walked over to it and flipped through it, seeing pictures of the countryside, abstract splashes of paint, and a lake scene where a man sat on the shore, staring at the sunset, all alone.

Jack knelt on the floor before it, his heart hurting for his mate. In all the paintings, he learned more about Maltin than he had, and this one painting said so much.

He liked being alone, but why? He enjoyed the beauty of nature, of colors, of serenity. Jack knew why. He hadn’t found anyone who could share that with him so he could enjoy it alone.

A man like Maltin didn’t need anyone to share that beauty with. He was comfortable alone, appreciating things most people took for granted. Maybe decades of being alone gave him that appreciation, but regardless of how he got there, he owned it.

Jack didn’t want Maltin to need him. Maltin should want him. And, for all he’d felt so far, he did.

Jack was his mate. It was so obvious after everything in the last couple of days, and yet Maltin wasn’t pushing him away to be alone. Was it possible that Jack was the one he was supposed to share things with?

He hoped so.

In the kitchen, Jack made himself coffee once he found the French press. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he looked in the fridge, laughing as he saw the perfect single servings of things in small glass containers labeled with the plastic ribbons of a label maker.

The cabinets were all neat, each can, or bottle lined perfectly, with their labels out. Then, Jack worried about Maltin liking things so organized. Jack didn’t consider himself a slob at all, but he wasn’t as compulsive as Maltin. How would he ever get used to Maltin’s ways? How would Maltin get used to Jack’s?

Then, he laughed it off. It wasn’t like they were getting married in a week. They had time to get to know each other.

The one thing he did know, however, was that he needed to quit his job. As jealous as Maltin seemed to be, Jack doubted he’d want Jack still hooking. And Jack knew Colin, knew he’d never send Jack out on jobs that were purely handyman work.

Jack took his mug of coffee upstairs and saw Maltin still out cold. As much as he hated to do it, he found some clothes that would fit him in Maltin’s dresser and got them on, a simple pair of expensive jeans and a shirt that Maltin likely used to clean his precious cars.

The cars. Jack’s memory came out of the fog of their lust, and he remembered the cars. “God, he’s going to lose it.”

After rushing down to the warehouse, he found his shoes in the center row of the cars, then stared in shock at the Corvette, which was nearly totally wrecked. “God! I’m so sorry,” he told the car, then laughed at himself for speaking to a car. “Maltin’s going to shit. Good thing I won’t be here for the explosion.”

He got his shoes and ran back up the stairs, leaving Maltin a note before finishing dressing and leaving the warehouse to head to the bus stop.

He went first to his apartment, wishing for his own clothes before he wrecked more of Maltin’s things. After showering, he put on his best jeans and white shirt before he came out of the bathroom to find two of his roommates drinking coffee at their small kitchen table.

Garvey was one of them, and then there was Pete, who was a small, bookish man with green contacts that were always askew. “Hey guys.”

At first, he was ignored as they perused their phones, then Pete glanced up at him and did a double take. “Wow, you look…different.”

Garvey looked next and said, “Yeah, you do! What the hell?”

He’d looked in the mirror several times but didn’t notice anything. “What do you mean?”

“Well, happier, for sure. Must have had a good client,” Pete said, setting his phone on the table.

“Not a client,” he said, then sat with them. They spoke in whispers to keep their other roommates from waking. “Wait…he is. Or he was. I don’t know.”

“Your mate,” Garvey whispered, and it was so breathy it was nearly inaudible.

“Mate? He has a mate?” Pete asked, his eyes widening enough to see the green of the contacts off by his tear duct.

Garvey ignored Pete momentarily, as his voice rose in his excitement. “You are, aren’t you? That’s why you were asking me all that stuff! And this client, he’s your mate!”

One of the roommates groaned from the bed, and they lowered their voices again. “Garvey, please, don’t tell anyone else.”

“Why? What’s wrong with being a shifter?”

Pete was hanging on every word, and Jack suddenly regretted coming home. “Absolutely nothing.”

“They are the highest form of supe, friend,” Garvey said haughtily.

Pete scoffed, “Not higher than gods.”

“Those rumors again?” Jack asked, irritated. “You guys and your conspiracy theories.”

“I’m telling you, there are gods in this town,” Pete pronounced. “I’d bet you if I wasn’t broke.”

“Can we get back to Jack thinking he’s too good to be a shifter?”

“Right, a witch/shifter,” Pete mused. “That’s a great combination, except if you’re ashamed of one or the other.”

“I’m not ashamed of anything. And…I’m just not sure of anything yet, so I don’t want a big fuss.”

“Oh, you’re a shifter,” Garvey said, grabbing his crotch and adjusting. “I’ve had wood since you started talking to us.”

“Excuse me?”

Pete giggled. He was human, but he worked with supes all the time at his job as a temp personal assistant. “You’re in heat,” he said.

Jack’s jaw dropped for a good thirty seconds. When he managed to close his mouth, he swallowed, cleared his throat, and squeaked, “Oh. You…can tell?”

“I’m human, and I’ve even started feeling it, Jack. You need some suppressants if you’re gonna be walking around in public.”

“Listen,” Garvey said very low, glancing at the bunk bed where the others lay. “Harold has some. You take them daily when you’re out in public. I’d grab a couple for you, but…man you smell so fucking good. Have you always smelled this good?”

Jack got up and moved away from the table. “Get me the suppressants.”