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Storm might want to be stubborn about what they were to each other, but he cared. Even if he didn’t love John yet, he still cared.

Otherwise he would’ve abandoned him, honor debt or no.

“Can you shift back into a man? I don’t think we’re near any more motels yet, but I’m picking up the scent of a cabin somewhere up ahead.”

Just the thought of a bed to sleep in made him all the more drowsy. Storm had to shake his shoulder to keep him awake.

“John, please…”

He was done. He couldn’t go on anymore. “Leave me here. ”

* * * *

Storm put his hands under the fur of his lover and hoisted him into the air. It worried him that the wolf didn’t groan in discomfort or pain, and, carrying his heavy load and the bag filled with their clothing, he ran the rest of the way, following his nose.

Mud and decaying leaves squished under his toes, but he didn’t Hunted and on the Run

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stop. He didn’t stop when he stepped on a sharp twig, and he didn’t stop when the cramp in his side started up. He’d been running for so long, and not only was the long cut down his side irritating him, but now his muscles wanted to give out as well.

A shifter’s stamina could only get him so far.

Finally, the cabin he scented came into view. He’d known it was somewhere in the distance because the old wood scent and faint presence of humans was still in the air.

The scent of humans was old. Whoever the owners were, they weren’t here.

He understood why the second he got close enough to notice the details of the place.

It was more of a shack than a cabin. Storm’s first thought was that it was used for storage, but there were no other houses nearby that it could be used for. There was a lake behind it, right behind the shack, and the water glowed orange with the setting sun.

He couldn’t believe John had managed to go so long and so far with a silver bullet inside of him, and despite the look of the shack, Storm wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

The door was locked, naturally, but it was a padlock and not a bolt. The wooden door was gray with age, and it was a simple matter of breaking it in and stepping inside.

He thanked God at the sight of a bed and a stove. Shack or no, someone used this place to spend nights. Maybe they only came here for fishing and whatnot, but there were supplies here that he could use.

The bedsheets weren’t even dusty, but the bed itself groaned when Storm placed the heavy wolf on top.

He stroked John’s hair one last time before he went to check the cupboards.

The cabin was small, about the size of a studio apartment, only without a bathroom. Storm figured that whoever owned this place just went and did their business in the trees. The stove was gas, and it 62

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worked, and the water ran cold from the sink in the kitchen. Storm filled up a kettle and set it over the burner. There was no telling if the water was drinkable, and they would need clean water anyway for John’s wound.

He searched through the rest of the drawers and cupboards, few of them that there were, and he struck gold.

A first aid kit. There was a first aid kit under the sink. He opened it and found bandage rolls, needles, alcohol, and swabs. Just as good as that, there was also a tackle box with a pair of needle-nose pliers inside. They looked dirty, but he could clean them in the boiling water and pull out the bullet in John’s leg.

If he didn’t shift back into a man, Storm just might have to find a way to shave the leg first.

John was burning up. Storm needed to get that bullet out of him.

He needed to put a cold cloth on his forehead, and he needed to clean out the wound with the hot water.

Storm went back to the bed and put his hand on John’s forehead.

Wolves didn’t have any sweat glands in their skin, so it wasn’t like the fur was damp or anything, but it did feel overly hot, and his nose was dry.

“John, please, I need you to try and shift back into a man. I don’t know what to do while you’re in wolf form.” He barely had any idea of what he was supposed to do should John become a man, but it was a better place for him to start.

John blearily opened his eyes. Storm didn’t expect much of a reaction from him. He thought John would just close his eyes again and slip into unconsciousness, but he didn’t.

Storm should’ve known better than to doubt the stubbornness of an alpha werewolf. John’s bones began to shift and snap. His fur shifted and shed entirely off him, or shrunk back to normal size on him, revealing his pale skin.

The change took nearly two minutes, and the entire time Storm worried that John wouldn’t be able to go all the way and that he Hunted and on the Run

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would somehow get stuck in that in-between.

He didn’t, and once he was a man again, John’s skin began to pour sweat. Even though his skin also felt hot, he shivered uncontrollably, and he reached his hands up to grip at his arms, as though trying to keep some of his body heat with him.

“C–cold,” he said.

“I know,” Storm said, stroking his hair, and happy beyond anything he ever felt that John was in human form again. “You’re going to be okay, just give me a minute.”

He pulled the thin blanket over his lover, despite the wolf hair that was on it.