It’s Deacon, I can smell him. He surprises me with the low husky hostility of his link between us and I
blink, stomach turning itself in knots as I realize what he just said. Trying to ignore the tone of killer in
his undercurrent because I know Colton is a seasoned warrior, and I’m about to see it for myself for a
second time.
How do you know what Deacon smells like? I blanch, looking from Colton to the truck and trying to
figure out how we would know that unless he knew him. He couldn’t have gotten scent from my
projecting memories. I mean, Deacon is a Santo, but if he’s been at the facility for years then I
assumed Colton would have been a boy and not really known him. Deacon is older, by maybe ten
years, and I don’t recall pulling him from any of his memories, but then again, I haven’t looked.
That asshole and his pack slunk off into god knows where after his father died, but I know him. He tried
to take me down in front of his pack when I was a kid, to exert his dominance, and humiliate me, and I
handed him his ass. I hate that mother fucker with a passion. Knowing that it’s his pack that held my
mom, and now comes after you both, I swear, I’m going to rip him limb from limb.
I swallow hard, eyes widening and gulp back a little tremor of ‘oh shit’ now that I realize this is more
than Colton being pissed on behalf of me and his mother, and Colton thinking about diffusing things. It’s
also about already hating the idiot who followed us here. The rev up again of his rage as it waves
through me and I know I need to settle him once more.
We have young here, we have pregnant women, and elderly wolves. We have families, and this space
is faced by a hundred windows. We need to shield them from the horrors and instill that this place is a
sanctuary. I have to help calm Colton and push this fight outside our boundaries, away from watching
eyes. I don’t want him to rile the extended pack and rip a dozen wolves to shreds out here like this.
Even if it is Deacon.
Someone opens the truck door and slides out, all dressed in dark clothes like Colton is, and I recognize
the tall, cocky swagger, right away. That air of asshole he wears so well. Deacon looks around, noting
all the wolves scattered in a circle surrounding him and then locks eyes on Colton as he seeks out
whom he should interact with, and seems to visibly sag. He obviously remembers Colton well.
It’s all in his body language and the death of confidence. He hesitates, then walks towards us with his
hands raised up as a sign of submission, and Colton stands taller, lifting his head and seems to grow a
few inches as he locks him with a penetrating glare. Colton moves in front of me instinctively, side
stepping and pushing me back with a hand slid across my abdomen firmly. I can tell it’s a protective
movement, instinctual, and can’t be mad about it when it’s purely automatic response to an incoming
threat.
Deacon’s own pack slide out of the two trucks, taking in all around them and stand back in the circle
surrounding their own vehicles. I can see the hesitant and questioning looks they throw between one
another, as they recognize certain members, and it’s obvious this is news to them that they followed my
tracks to a Santo lair. They stay put and look towards Deacon for direction, showing zero signs of
hostility now they see us.
“I’m only doing what I’m told, Colton. I didn’t come here to fight, or even knew you’d broken off and had
a Santo sect here. I just need to take my patient, and my prisoner, back. Your father was very clear
about that.” Deacon isn’t so smug now, in fact, I can taste his nervousness, and smell his fear in the air
as he closes the gap and comes within four feet. Sure the second It dawned on him he was rolling into
a Santo space he shit his pants and had a moment of ‘what the fuck is going on?’. I move around
Colton a tad, to be able to lock a nasty glare at Deacon’s smug head and catch the eye flicker as he
notices me and looks back to my Alpha.
Colton snorts in response to what he said. His body bristling with a pulsing desire to rip at Deacon and I
impulsively lay a hand flat on his back, to remind him to stay calm. I can feel it oozing my way, his
emotions riling mine, and that insane desire to turn and bite the asshole in the face. I have to inhale
heavily, breathe deeply, and count to ten to make it pass, willing Colton to draw from me some of this
settling energy.
“Prisoner? Patient? ….. Do you mean my mom and my femme? Pretty sure you can’t be talking about
walking on in here uninvited, thinking I’m going to stand back and let you touch either of them.” Colton
steps to him and closes the gap completely, humanly straight, and tall, aggression pulsating, and
pushes nose to nose with Deacon. He’s standing taller than him by only an inch, but he seems so
much more dominant as Deacon hesitates but stays his ground. He is a pack leader after all, and his
own are watching him closely, so he needs to curb the weakness to keep face. Colton is growling, so
low it’s reverberating through me and my wolf is getting all kinds of excited. I try extra hard to pat her
down and tell her off.
It’s the weirdest thing, but seeing and feeling him this way, makes me crazy hot in an inappropriate
way, and I curse my damn hormones and that damned haze moving in on me. My wolf wants to play,
with him, in all kinds of dirty ways, she’s just torn between ripping Deacons head off or stripping Colton
naked for his show of fierce, and I have to work twice as hard to curb those urges. She’s all swooning
and needy in a time when she just needs to shut up and be still.
“Your father won’t care. I’m just doing what I’m told… like I’m meant to. He won’t like this one bit. Just
take it up with him when we leave and deal with him yourself.” Deacon doesn’t really seem to be
getting the memo, and it dawns on me that much like I didn’t know, he won’t either, that Colton is his
rightful alpha and just by questioning him, he’s breaking all kinds of rules and respect.
He’s oblivious to the pack split, and to him, this is Colton setting off on his own to start a separate sect
while still under his father’s order. It happens when males who are next in line become impatient for
dominance, and they are then allowed to set up camp somewhere else with any willing to follow. Big
packs like the Santos dominate entire regions because of previous generations splitting and setting up
across the land, to make sure challenges and disputes don’t arise when young males get too big for
their own boots. There’s always only one head alpha though, and Deacon assumes it’s still Juan.
“My father is not the alpha anymore! I am! Now back the fuck up and listen to me, because this is how I
say this is going to go.” Colton snaps at him, making Deacon flinch with the intense crazy that came
through with that response and he does seem to shrivel slightly. Colton was right. Deacon is a coward,
and when he doesn’t have a dart gun and a facility keeping wolf gifts at bay, or thick plexiglass prisons,
he’s just a weak ass omega who is the lowest of our pack.
“Juan is my Alpha, I don’t know what makes you think otherwise, and for all I know, you could be lying.”
Deacon truly is an idiot of epic proportions and much to my surprise, Colton doesn’t punch him in the
face, but laughs instead. A deranged yet somehow boyish noise, and he raises his head and looks at
the trucks behind Deacon’s head.
“Do you hear that, Meds? I must be lying!” Colton’s eyes are on the vehicles and I squint to see where
he can see her. I can’t. I can smell the sub pack on the wind, blowing gently this way, but there’s
nothing but shadows and darkness beyond the lit area we’re standing in.
“I guess we witnessed a mirage then, huh?” Meadow appears slinkily on the roof of the first truck,
coming out of the shadows and strutting across the thick solid canvas of the covering like a
supermodel. Hand on her hip as she glares this way and the sub pack seem to emerge creepily too.
Some around the sides of the trucks, pouring in like beetles, and scaring Deacons pack half to death
with the sudden appearance. Cesar appears behind Meadow, up top, while Matteo appears on the roof
of the other one. Ninja stealth and almost magical appearances. They know how to spread out and look
like there’s more of them. They have a force that’s hard to miss.
“Let me have this one, he’s cute, and I want to play with him!” Jesus slides up behind one of the men
who are slightly further out from the rest, and he jumps a mile high, growls Jesus’ way and then back
runs to his pack to get away from the taunting smirk and kissing motions. The twins chuckle as they
round on them, making more of those sexy wink and kiss motions, cooing the males naughtily. They’re
humiliating them while standing casually, languishing like they’re hanging out in a field waiting for a
sports tournament to begin. No hint of fear, wariness, or even rage. Just taunting confidence of a pack
that know as a unit, they’re fierce.
“I don’t think you’re his type. He likes the soft submissive femmes, so he can feel all man about it.”
Radar pokes fun at the member trying to cower behind his pack, and Colton grins at the hilarity of his
very intimidating fellows. It’s obvious he’s used to this kind of response when they encounter an enemy,
and he doesn’t seem phased by it at all. It now makes sense who was whooping and making noise
upon arriving as though heading to a party. They’re comical in a terrifying psychotic way, and you can
tell every one of them has tasted blood on a battlefield. You only get that kind of bold scary from
experience.
The jokes and presence of his subs do seem to have calmed Colton down considerably, and already I
can sense the waves of fury ebbing out as he realizes this pack isn’t worth it. Not one of them are trying
to enforce any kind of fight, and Deacon, despite his eyes faintly glowing, seems to be trying to diffuse
rather than entice. They’re what I thought when I met them, Omega cowards, and it’s not even
honorable enough to fight them.
“You don’t want to battle, that’s fine by me. My people don’t need bloodshed on their own doorstep. We
have children here, but you’re not leaving with either of these women without going through me, so
maybe you should turn around, tuck your tail back up your ass where it belongs, and go tell my daddy I
said to go fuck himself. That I know everything. He’ll know what you mean. Maybe on the drive back to
the mountain, you and your crew should evaluate which side of the Santo pack you’re going to run with
from here on in, because the future doesn’t look pretty if it’s his.” Snarling in his face, returning to a
shot of intimidation, and no hint of any kind of hesitation, or nervousness. Colton is about an inch away
from pissing on Deacon and marking his territory, such is his overwhelming hostility as the other wolf
crumbles.
Colton doesn’t sound like Colton. He sounds like a man, not a boy. A confident leader, who is extremely
accomplished in handling people like Deacon, and it’s like seeing him in a new light. I’ve never had to
come head to head with fierce Colton or seen him in real aggression mode beyond the orphanage, and
I wonder what exactly him taking his father down looked like. There’s no lie, my inner wolf likes it, and
I’m almost salivating over him in this moment, my insides all kinds of churned up and I have to step
back and take a few deep breaths to calm the raging hormones once more. The fates definitely picked
the right kind of male to match me too. I couldn’t want him more in this moment. Turned on by his
dominance.
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