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Mated to the Wild Omega                     69

Chapter Eight

He wasn’t in la-la land for very long. He knew this because the alarm on the nightstand, some glow-in-the-dark take on one of those old bell alarm clocks, didn’t show that much time had passed.

The only thing worth panicking over was how his bed was empty.

Morgan shot up, the dried fluids that had glued him to the bedsheets coming apart with a gross kind of crunching noise.

He had to tell himself not to panic. Nick was still in the house, and if Terry had gone wild again and tried to leave, the other man would’ve been downstairs and would have stopped him before he could get outside.

It hadn’t yet been two hours, so Nick should still be awake and on watch.

Morgan brought his hand up to his neck, touching the bite mark.  There was only a little blood, and it was dry. Terry had only bitten out of instinct, not to hurt him, but now he was gone, and Morgan had to find him.

He shivered. Goddamn it was cold in here.

He raced downstairs. Nick was sitting in the dark by one of the windows. He turned his head toward the sound of Morgan’s rushing feet on the stairs.

“Did Terry come down here?”

Nick got to his feet. “No. Isn’t he up there?”

Fuck. Morgan ran back upstairs. Maybe his mate had just walked  into the bathroom for a minute and Morgan was being an idiot. He  really hoped that was the case.

It wasn’t. Morgan no longer cared about conserving power in case

70                          Marcy Jacks

the owner were to find out that someone had come to his house. He

turned on all the lights upstairs and called out for his mate. He even

looked under the beds and in the closets. Just in case.

“His scent is still strong. If he left, it wasn’t very long ago,” Nick

said.

“How the hell did he get out?” Morgan snapped.

“Why would he want to leave at all?” Nick asked.

Morgan hated the hint of accusation in the other man’s voice. He  wasn’t even going to contemplate that idea that Terry had wanted to  leave Morgan on purpose.

“He’s still wild. That doesn’t go away in a day,” he said, annoyed  with the other man. “His animal side probably took over, and he was  scared and confused and left.”

“His human mind was still in enough control to sneak out the  window,” Nick said, moving toward the only window in the bedroom  that Morgan and Terry had been sharing.

“What?”

Morgan followed his friend, and only then was he able to notice the slight breeze of freezing air coming through the bottom of the window pane.

Terry had opened the window, let himself out, and then shut it again as silently as he could, but it hadn’t shut all the way. That was why it was so cold in here. Not because there was no heat in the house, but because of the freezing air from outside getting into the

room.

“We have to find him before he gets far,” Nick said, turning away

from the window.

“If he’s found by other wild werewolves or picked up by

hunters…”

Morgan was glad that Nick didn’t finish that sentence. He could hardly think about what those people would do to his mate if they got ahold of him.

He looked out the window. The snow was still coming down in

Mated to the Wild Omega                      71

thick, cotton-ball-sized flakes, but visibility had definitely improved.

They were going to have to shift into their wolf forms to be able  to travel at all out there, not to mention track which direction Terry  had gone off in.

“Right. Let’s go.”

* * * *

Terry couldn’t run. The snow was piled too high for that, and his hind legs and front paws were practically killing him from the strain on his body it took for him to push through that much snow. He had to keep making these awkward jumps just to press on.

He could smell them. Smell his friends. He needed to get to them.  He had to save them.

Suddenly, Terry came to a stop, his ears perking up sharply on top

of his head.

Voices. Human voices come from just down that dark path. At least in the summer it was probably a path. Right now it was just another tall stretch of untouched snow that the trees all made room

for.

The voices were coming from down that way, and so was the

scent of his friends.

Charlie, Jay, and Alecia. They were down there.

Terry growled low in his throat, instincts taking command of his mind and body that had previously never been there before. The instinct to attack and defend was the most prominent of what he felt.

He pressed on, making new tracks as he slowly traveled down the snowy path. Closer to the end, he ducked into the safety of the heavy pines, counting on them to hide him while he searched for the members of his pack that had been stolen.

The clearing was lit, thanks in part to a large fire, and even shoveled enough to keep the tents from being buried under the snow.  One of the shovels was propped up against a birch tree on the other

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side of the clearing. It looked as though this space would need  shoveling again soon.

There were loud complaints coming from the inside of the largest  tent in the middle.

More human words, and though he knew the language, right now,

for some reason, he couldn’t understand what the words meant.

“I’m telling you that we need to sell those pelts. I’m not staying in  a tent all the way through winter. I did that last year. I’m not doing it  again this year.”

The answering voice was a whining one. “But I bagged these two  myself on the last hunt! You were with me. You saw it! Why do you  get to keep yours but I have to sell mine?”

“I’m keeping only one. Selling one won’t feed us or keep us out  of this shit