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mate.  “Go! Go!”  he commanded mentally, showing the omega his

teeth to let him know that he meant business.

Terry stopped fighting Nick and started moving with him. Morgan

watched them run away, still jumping over the mounds of snow.

Mated to the Wild Omega                     89

Terry would forgive him. If he lived through this.

Morgan raced with every ounce of strength he had inside him back the way he came, following the path that he and the others had created. He ran as though his life depended on it.

If those hunters captured and killed Terry, it would kill Morgan, too. Terry was his life now. He wasn’t about to let these hunters hurt him!

When the roaring Ski-Doos came into sight, Morgan cursed.

Two of them. There were four hunters on the two Ski-Doos. What

if both of them didn’t follow him?

He couldn’t think of anything to do other than make himself the easier target. He kept right on running at them, until he could see the whites in their eyes through the wind goggles they wore.

Then he veered off the path and ran into the trees.

The blast of a shotgun followed him. He heard the explosion of splinters as the heavy pellets struck the tree he’d just dodged behind.

Both Ski-Doos followed him. He could hear the engines and the laughter of the hunters, and they chased after what was to be an easy

target.

Well, with the way the snow was still slowing him down, he  would be easy to catch all right. He just hoped he could cause enough  of a problem for these men and stay away long enough that Nick and  Terry could get away.

Another gunshot followed him into the trees. They were right on  his tail now. Too close to have missed unless…

They were fucking with him. They knew they were going to catch him, and now they were just trying to scare him.

Well, he was scared all right. He didn’t want to end up being a pelt on any of their walls. He wanted to see Terry’s face again, wanted to kiss him, to get to know him.

He pushed himself harder, searching for anything that he could use as shelter. A cave or a stream that hadn’t frozen over yet that he could run along. Anything.

90                          Marcy Jacks

One of the Ski-Doos rode up right beside him. Yeah, they were definitely fucking with him.

“Let me guess who you are. The nice man from the cabin who asked if we were okay?” said the driver, and the smaller man behind him was loading red shells into a break-open shotgun then snapped it shut when he finished.

“Bet you werewolf piece of shit would’ve tried to eat us if we’d

asked to stay the night.”

“Yeah!” shouted the smaller man in the bitch seat.

Then he pointed the gun right at Morgan’s face.

Morgan did the only thing he could think of to do in that kind of panicked situation. He jumped at the driver.

The scream as the man lost control of the Ski-Doo, crashing it into a leafless shrub, as well as the splash of blood in Morgan’s mouth, was so satisfying.

There was still one more Ski-Doo and two more hunters to worry about, so he kept on going, even when the two hunters still in control of their vehicle stopped to check on their fallen friends.

The driver, whose hand Morgan had bitten, was screaming something awful at the hunter who’d pointed the gun at Morgan’s face.

Morgan reminded himself that he had to stop, to stay close so he could remain a proper target lest they give up on him and start chasing after Nick and Terry again.

“You fucking idiot! What did you think you were doing!”

“I was trying to―”

The hunter Morgan bit slapped the guy full on the face, like he was some kind of girl or something. It left a long streak of blood across the other guy’s cheek.

“You don’t actually fucking shoot it with a shotgun if you want to preserve the pelt!”

The other man reached his hand up to touch his face and then looked at his bloodied fingers.

Mated to the Wild Omega                     91

“Did it bite you?”

The man that Morgan was going to assume was the leader from  here on out turned away from him in disgust, just as one of the other  hunters put his hand under his jacket, as though he was reaching for a  gun. Terry was right. Now that Morgan had seen him up close, even  with all that winter gear on, he recognized him as one of the hunters  who’d attacked his pack over two months ago.

“Of course not, you idiot. That fucking thorny bush shredded my  hand when you fucked up and made the wolf panic.”

“Are you sure?” said the man with his hand on a gun.

Their leader rounded on him. “Of course I’m fucking sure! You  really think I would want to be a werewolf?” He spat into the snow.  “If one of those diseased flea-ridden things ever sinks its teeth in me,  I’ll put myself out of my misery.”

Morgan smiled an openmouthed, tongue-lolling dog smile, but in  his mind, he was grinning evilly. He had bitten that hunter. He could  still taste the blood in his mouth.

He just didn’t want to admit it to the rest of his hunter buddies in case they took him prisoner, waited for him to transform, and skinned him instead.

The easy targets were always the better ones, after all.

“Find those fucking wolves!” the lead hunter shrieked.

Morgan had to come out of his hiding place. He barked a shrill-sounding bark to get their attention before they could go after Nick and Terry.

They all turned as one, saw how close Morgan was to them, and then jumped back onto their snow mobiles.

Morgan had to run again, as much as he could in all this snow. He didn’t know how much longer he could do this for, because unless he found a good place to hold up until backup arrived, they were going to catch him