Mason's Regret Read online

  MASON’S REGRET

  WOLVES’ HEAT

  BOOK 8

  A Novel

  Odessa Lynne

  ODELYN PUBLISHING

  MASON’S REGRET

  Copyright © 2017 by Odessa Lynne

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for quotes used in any review, the reproduction or utilization of the work in whole or in part by electronic, mechanical or other means is forbidden without written permission of the author.

  Cover design by Odessa Lynne

  Photo of forest © Denisbelitsky | Dreamstime.com

  odessalynne.com

  Published by Odelyn Publishing

  odelyn.com

  First Electronic Publication December 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, events, and incidents portrayed in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Also by Odessa Lynne

  About the Author

  About Mason’s Regret

  Once every three years, humans become sexual prey to a species that has no control over the urge to mate because of a devastating attraction to human scent.

  It’s been three years since Mason and his twin brother were caught inside the American Protectorate and held as prisoners by the aliens everyone calls “wolves.” Mason’s brother hasn’t been the same since, and neither has Mason.

  Now heat season has come again, and for reasons Mason doesn’t understand, his brother has gone back into the protectorate—and he needs Mason’s help.

  Mason’s past is full of mistakes, but leaving his brother to deal with trouble alone isn’t one he’s going to make again—no matter the cost. But when wolves start howling nearby, there’s only one sane thing to do: run.

  Except the only path to safety is through a terrifying alpha wolf who wants to claim Mason as his mate…

  Chapter 1

  The day had turned to night without him noticing. The light filtering through the cracks between the dusty oak boards that made up the walls of the twenty-foot square shed wasn’t enough to illuminate the packed earth under Mason’s feet, but he could see the outline of his hand fisting the hem of his yellowed t-shirt and the dark shadow of blood on the toe of his left boot.

  “Goddammit,” he breathed. His arm wasn’t going to stop bleeding without more compression. He might not be able to see much, but he could see that.

  Feel it, too.

  He leaned forward and the thin metal of the overturned toolbox under him creaked, a faint sound that got lost under the rising whistle of wind forcing its way through the gaps in the walls. He exhaled and squinted against the swirl of dust he could feel and smell and taste in the heavy air.

  A storm was coming, chasing the wind with ferocious speed. He’d been ready to take shelter anywhere he could find it, but a hundred-year-old shack wasn’t going to protect him for long. Not from the storm, and not from the trouble that was coming up on him faster than the wind gusting outside.

  He jabbed the short blade of his pocketknife through the fabric a few inches above the hem and tore a long strip free.

  The air was cooling, but inside the shack the chill wind hadn’t yet chased away the trapped heat of the day.

  A sudden gust of wind rattled the walls. The knife slipped out of his hand and only a quick reflex kept him from dropping it.

  He blew out a tight breath and snapped the knife closed against his thigh then clipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. Biting down on one end of the strip of fabric let him pull the makeshift bandage tight as he wrapped his forearm, closing the four-inch long gash.

  His stomach roiled and he had to blink a few times to get his bearings. He didn’t think the injury was going to kill him, not quickly anyway, but every time he looked at his arm, his stomach twisted, a visceral reaction he couldn’t seem to tamp down.

  Lightning flashed bright and stark outside and he paused. One… two… three…

  Thunder rumbled, shivering up his spine.

  As if to prove there was some kind of goddamn curse on him, the howl of wind died suddenly and the rev of an engine cut through the temporary lull.

  Another flash of light speared through the shed’s walls.

  Not lightning this time, but headlights to go with the distinct rev and hum of an engine running on halfgas.

  He lurched to his feet, taking precious seconds to tuck the end of his makeshift bandage tight. Pain lanced up his arm and his next breath didn’t come easy. He pushed through it and grabbed his rifle off the floor beside him.

  Voices rose outside the shed and something heavy slammed into the door, shaking the rickety walls. “I know you’re in there, you motherfucker! Get out here or I’m going to blow that fucking shack down around you!”

  Stan. That son of a bitch.

  Should’ve guessed it’d be him leading the pack.

  Adrenaline fired through Mason’s veins. He raised his rifle and sighted on the rattling door. It was his fifth and final bullet. But five had always been his lucky number. Good riddance, motherfucker.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Light exploded around him. Thunder shook the ground under his feet just before his feet left the ground. He didn’t have time to wonder what had happened. He slammed into the shed’s far wall, every last gasp of breath leaving his lungs in one sudden blow.

  The shed collapsed, the remaining walls too weak to withstand the howling wind.

  One moment he was gasping for breath through the hard knot of pain in his chest and the next he was staring into the trees above him, branches whipping in the wind, the moon just a pale glow behind a bank of dark clouds.

  Conscious thought coalesced into something resembling sense. Headlights shone into the trees on the other side of the shack. He blinked against a sudden patter of rain and tried to roll to the side, but a weight on his legs stopped him.

  Part of the shed’s roof had fallen across his lower legs.

  How long had he been out? He had no idea.

  He swiped rain out of his eyes and tried to move again. He needed to get out of there before—

  A flashlight streaked across his face, momentarily blinding him.

  “There he is, the fucker! Drag him out.”

  Not Stan. Lavi.

  Mason shoved at the boards holding him dow
n. His injured arm protested with a sharp stab of pain that stole his breath. He lost track of the voices.

  A lean silhouette stepped close. “Get out of the way.”

  The weight on Mason’s legs intensified, and he gasped.

  Thunder rumbled loud and long overhead and the patter of rain turned into a deluge, beating at his face. He turned his head away, trying to keep the water out of his nose.

  The weight on his legs eased. Ten seconds later, a hard boot caught him under the ribs and he gasped and rolled over.

  Rough hands yanked him up by his arms, dragging him to his knees.

  He screamed before he could stop himself. His injured arm throbbed in time to his heartbeat, a hot, deep ache, and he struggled to shake off the disorientation that had him in as tight a grip as the men holding him.

  They dragged him away from the fallen shack and across the uneven ground. His knees burned under the fabric of his jeans and his head throbbed.

  He glanced up, catching a glimpse of thick muscle and barrel chest.

  Rock. Rock and Lavi.

  Lavi shoved Mason hard toward Stan who was propped up against the side of the utility vehicle the three had rode in on.

  “You fuck—” A cough interrupted Stan’s ragged words. His groan got lost in the gurgle of his next breath.

  Shit, yeah. From the sound of that cough, Stan was as good as dead.

  Mason laughed into the flood of rain.

  Rock grabbed a handful of Mason’s hair and jerked him forward. Mason’s eyes prickled at the sharp pull and his knees slipped on the wet ground. He fell face first into Stan’s lap.

  He tried to shove himself upright, but Rock stepped on his back and forced him down. He sucked in a piss-scented breath and clenched his teeth.

  The sorry bastard had pissed himself at some point. Mason exhaled another weak laugh. Couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy knowing that.

  Rock yanked Mason upright by the hair again, hard enough to make him gasp. He struggled for balance, digging his sore knees into the soft, wet earth, and squinted through the blowing rain.

  Hate glimmered back at him from Stan’s dark eyes. “You’re dead, Waters. Gonna blow your fucking brains out myself after we get what we want out of you.” He was forcing the words out, but that was Stan, stubborn to the last goddamn gasp.

  “You’re just as dead,” Mason said. “Nobody’ll fix you tonight and you won’t make it ’til tomorrow. Good enough for me.”

  “Your brother gave me a message for you, right before I gutted him. Don’t you want to hear it?”

  Rage swallowed Mason whole. “Goddamn you!”

  He tore free of Rock’s unyielding grip and slammed his fist into the side of Stan’s face.

  Lavi lunged toward Mason. “Shit!”

  Rock reached Mason first. He backhanded Mason so hard Mason’s vision grayed out.

  Mason fell on his ass just as one of Lavi’s boots plowed into his gut. He hit the ground hard, splashing into a rivulet of rain rushing down the hillside. His cheek throbbed and his head spun. He couldn’t catch his breath.

  “Shoot the fucker! Let’s get this done. There could be wolves nearby.”

  Wolves.

  Mason had hardly had time to think about them, even though everything that had happened had been in part because of them, because of the people who didn’t want to share Earth with aliens who lived by rules no human should have to tolerate. Three years ago, Mason had been one of those people. He’d been a renegade, sure he was doing what was right and just, in a world that didn’t seem right and just any longer.

  When the wolves had arrived, their similarity to humans had changed the world. Their freely shared technologies had offered unlimited promise for the future of humanity.

  Then the wolves’ first heat season came. It had ruined everything—destroyed the peace, put an end to free will—cracked the world, he’d thought.

  He still thought it, but he’d stopped trying to fight back. His own leader’s capitulation had shown him how inevitable it all was. If they could turn someone as strong as Brendan, what hope did any of them have? Brendan had been persuasive and cunning and absolutely convinced that the continued resistance of the renegades was the only thing protecting humanity from becoming slaves to the aliens they’d allowed to make a home on Earth.

  The government had given in years before—the American Protectorate belonged to the wolves and there would be no going back. Ever. The wolves weren’t leaving. Mason’s own home sat one mile from the border of the protectorate—too close to be safe during the heat season and too far away for his family to have been offered anything in trade to move after everyone realized just how dangerous living so close to the wolves could be.

  It was Lavi who’d spoken—of course. He was terrified of the wolves. But only a fool wouldn’t be, especially now. The wolves’ heat only came around once every three years, but it had finally come again. The first notices had gone out five days ago—the very same day Marcus had disappeared.

  “We’re not going to… shoot him yet,” Stan gasped. “I need him—I want him to—” But a deep, wet cough stole the rest of his breath and he didn’t finish what he’d started.

  “He’ll suffer,” Rock said. “Don’t worry.”

  Rock’s heavy boot landed on the back of Mason’s head, grinding down with enough force to push Mason’s face into the wet earth. Rock was a large man, heavy and muscled, his goddamn neck thicker than Mason’s thigh. Water filled Mason’s nose, and he started choking. He grabbed wildly for Rock’s leg but couldn’t get the leverage he needed to get out from under Rock’s massive boot.

  He wasn’t used to fighting alone. Marcus—

  But Marcus was gone and the dagger of grief that thought brought made him gasp for breath. Water burned its way into his lungs and he thrashed furiously, trying to break free.

  “Stop, goddammit.”

  Mason could just make out Stan’s voice, garbled and weak.

  “Bring him here.”

  Rock put his foot down, splashing water into Mason’s face. Mason rolled, coughing desperately to clear his lungs.

  Son of a bitch obviously had a thing for pulling hair, because he grabbed Mason by his head again and shoved him onto his knees right in front of Stan. Lavi jerked Mason’s arms behind his back. The move put pressure on Mason’s injured forearm and Mason only managed not to scream by clenching his teeth.

  Lightning flashed and thunder cracked overhead and the rain became a river of water down his face and neck and back. He shuddered, soaked through, the wind stealing every bit of heat his body could generate.

  He said a quick prayer for Gillie, Brecken, and his mom. They’d be okay, even if things got harder for a while. Once Matthew found out they were alone, he’d help them out. That’s what family did. Matthew might just be a cousin, but he was loyal to a fault, and Mason’s mom had practically raised him.

  Mason wished he’d been able to stop Marcus before it was too late. He wished—

  A lot of things, goddammit.

  He tried again to jerk free.

  Lavi’s grip slid to Mason’s wrists and Rock wrenched Mason’s head sideways, leaving Mason gasping for breath at the sharp pain in his neck.

  “Just get on with it,” Lavi said. “I want out of this fucking rain before the wolves come.”

  Stan pressed his hand to his chest, wheezing. “They can’t track in the rain.” Wheeze. “Stop bitching.”

  Mason clenched his teeth. Goddamn bastard had better die.

  In his agitation, Lavi jostled Mason forward. “The fuck they can’t. D’you think I’m stupid or something?”

  Out of the corner of Mason’s eye he saw Rock knock his fist into Lavi’s shoulder. Lavi muttered under his breath and then went quiet.

  Stan’s eyes glittered in the indirect glow of the utility vehicle’s headlights and the shadows behind him made his expression appear darker, harder than ever as he stared at Mason. “You sorry yet… for what you did?”

&
nbsp; “I’ll never be sorry.”

  “That brother of yours… sounded sorry enough.”

  Mason lunged toward Stan again, but Lavi and Rock were ready for him this time and all he managed was to pull on his shoulder too hard, sending pain stabbing all the way up the side of his neck. He regained control of his temper and stopped struggling to sit back on his heels, breathing hard while the gusting wind blew the rain directly at him.

  Stan made an aborted move to raise his hand but dropped it back to his chest instead. “Ready… to talk?”

  “I can’t wait until you’re dead and buried, you goddamn monster.”

  Stan’s eyebrows rose. “Monster? I’m a… goddamn patriot, Waters. You used to be. Don’t know… what happened… to you.” Stan started coughing again, bending almost double as he did. “Not—”

  His coughing stopped, as suddenly as it had started.

  Mason waited, one, two, three heartbeats. The wind swirled, whipping rain into Mason’s face.

  Stan didn’t move.

  “Aw fuck,” Rock said. “Goddammit!”

  Satisfaction surged deep into Mason’s heart and he clenched his fists behind him and tried to shake off Lavi’s hold. “The son of a bitch is dead. You should—”

  Before he could tell them what he thought they ought to do—let him go, for starters—Rock slammed Mason to the ground. Lavi’s hold on him jerked loose and his cheekbone connected with a slab of sandstone jutting out of the wet earth.

  Stunned almost senseless, he couldn’t react fast enough before Rock’s knee plowed into the middle of his spine.

  Rock felt like a two-ton truck on Mason’s back.

  Thunder clapped. Lightning flashed so close that the bright spark of light blinded him. A tree cracked and the long, slow fall of a broken trunk shook the forest.

  Rock grabbed Mason by the hair again and yanked, bowing Mason’s spine and raising his chest off the waterlogged earth. The cold edge of a blade pressed at Mason’s throat.

  He was about to die, at the hands of a man he’d once thought he could count on to protect his back. Talk about fucking irony.

  Rock’s hot breath hit his ear. “Stan was worth twenty of—”

  A gunshot ricocheted through the woods. Mason jerked.