03-Strength of the Mate (26 page)

The wolves had quieted down again. They wove among each other, brushing flanks and cheeks. Dawson stood among them, but he seemed to still be watching Adam.

“Everybody doin’ okay?” Paul asked, appearing around the corner of a trailer.

“They seem to be,” Adam replied shortly. He wasn’t in the mood to chat, even with someone he liked.

Paul, and another Marine Adam had never met, set out several large, metal bowls. They emptied bottles of water into the bowls, which made several werewolves very happy. Before they were even done, some of the wolves were lapping greedily at the water.

“This is for Dawson.” Paul handed Adam a full bottle of water. “Call me old school, but I don’t think pack leaders should drink out of community bowls.”

Adam said a quiet thanks.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” Paul asked as he watched the pack in the distance.

“No. Thanks.” Adam hoped he didn’t sound like an asshole. He liked Paul, but he was relieved to be alone again. He just didn’t have the energy to chat while he pretended he wasn’t remembering the worst day of his life.

Dawson approached Adam slowly, head lowered. Adam uncapped the bottle of water, pouring slowly. He watched Dawson’s long, pink tongue lap at the stream of water as he drank. Part of Adam thought this was funny. He just didn’t have the energy to laugh.

When he finished drinking, Dawson circled around Adam. He laid down beside the chair, resting his head in Adam’s lap. He draped his hand over the top of Dawson’s head and closed his eyes, just feeling the warm weight against his leg.

Adam saw Jason’s leg, covered in dark black blood. He saw Jase with his shirt front soaked with blood. Adam couldn’t run fast enough, he couldn’t drive fast enough.

Angry snarls jerked Adam from his memories. Dawson leaped to his feet, reaching the scuffling wolves in just a few seconds. He growled and barked at the two combatants. One tucked his tail and started to slink away, the other stood his ground. Dawson growled, taking the smaller wolf’s throat in his jaws. Dawson effortlessly pinned the wolf on its back, holding him there for several seconds.

When Dawson released his grip, the smaller wolf stayed on his back, paws curled up against his chest and belly. Even Adam recognized submission when he saw it. He was impressed at how easily Dawson controlled the wolves. He was strong, but he wasn’t a bully.

“Hey.” Paul appeared from around the corner of the trailer again. This time, he carried two foil-covered plates. “You haven’t eaten since this morning, so I brought you something.”

“I’m fine.” Adam waved off the plates.

“No, you’re not,” Paul retorted. “You led a convoy through a combat zone, saw your friend get wounded, and visited him in the hospital. Now, you’re sitting alone, brooding. Dawson will have my ass if I don’t make sure you eat.”

Adam sighed. “’Cause I have to take care of him once he shifts back,” he said morosely.

Paul set the plates on Adam’s lap, stacking a pile of napkins on top of that. “Pretty sure the only thing you have to do tonight is let him curl up against you. He’ll probably still be in a caretaking mood.”

Adam didn’t have a reply.

“Eat as much as you can,” Paul finally said as he sauntered away. “Let Dawson have the rest. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Adam’s traitorous stomach growled at the smell of the warm food. He curled back the foil to find the plate full, and also the necessary utensils. Paul was right; Adam’s day had been pretty fucking eventful, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. His body needed fuel, so his brain could just shut the hell up.

Adam thought about what Paul had said, about Dawson just wanting to curl up against him. He wondered if Dawson’s larger bunk had been moved into his hooch, or if they were going to be on the bedroll again. Not that it mattered.

Adam ate as much as he could from both plates. Finally stuffed, he set them both on the ground in front of him. Sure enough, Dawson quickly appeared. He eagerly licked both plates clean, then lapped up more water from the bottle as Adam held it.

As soon as Dawson returned to his pack, Paul re-appeared to retrieve the clean plates.

“Don’t you have better things to do than hang around and wait on us?” Adam was thankful he didn’t sound bitchy this time.

Paul still frowned at him. “I’m an NCO, and the second most dominant werewolf on base. I’m sitting in the shade a couple trailers down, bossing around a bunch of submissive PFCs.”

Adam laughed. “I should have known. What the hell was I thinking?”

Paul was still laughing when he disappeared again. Adam chuckled, relaxing back in his chair.

The shade shifted as the sun began to set. Adam stood to move his chair. He walked in several small circles to stretch his legs. Dawson appeared beside him, sniffing at both Adam and the chair.

“I gotta take a leak,” he murmured.

Dawson fell into step beside Adam, heading for the bathroom trailers. Adam didn’t need a bodyguard, but something told him that wasn’t why Dawson was following. He dug his fingers into the fur of Dawson’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth that seeped into his hand. The silent companionship was comforting, so Adam pulled his hand back.

The sun had fully set by the time they made it back to the clearing. Adam settled down in his chair again. He watched a wolf separate himself from the pack, and give a mighty shake. The wolf slowly walked off into the rows of hooches.

Full dark settled over them, the camp generators kicking on and powering the artificial lights. Two more wolves split off from the pack, trotting away into the rows of trailers. Adam wondered if they were all starting to shift. He watched Dawson stand still as the remaining wolves licked at his ears and muzzle.

“Dawson should be ready to shift soon,” Paul said, as he slowly approached. “He’s got enough control that he probably could have shifted a while ago. I think he’s waited this long because he’s a new pack leader.”

“He’s very serious about looking after the werewolves here, isn’t he?” Adam asked quietly. He didn’t really need confirmation for what he already knew.

“Yep,” replied Paul. “Which is exactly how our dominant wolves should be.”

Adam sighed thoughtfully as Paul wandered away again. Dawson captured his attention when he split off from the pack. He paused, looking over at Adam. Dawson gave a short, high-pitched bark, looking at Adam expectantly.

“Am I supposed to just get up and follow you?” Adam called, feeling like he’d been summoned.

Dawson just turned away and started walking.

“I’m not one of the werewolves that you can just boss around,” Adam said, catching up with Dawson. “Taking this pack leader thing a little too far,” he muttered.

They reached Dawson’s hooch. Adam opened the door wide enough for Dawson to enter carefully. His huge body filled the small, crowded space. Pulling the door shut behind him, Adam saw that the double-wide bunk had been installed. One of Dawson’s uniforms lay neatly folded at the foot. Two foil-covered plates sat on the tiny desk beneath the window.

Dawson shuffled around until he could sit down in the center of the trailer. He lowered his head, and fur began to turn into tanned skin. Parts of Dawson’s body altered shape, becoming human in just an instant.

The sight of Dawson kneeling naked on the floor of his hooch, made Adam’s pulse race. He was well-muscled, his skin tan and smooth. Everything about Dawson scratched one of Adam’s many itches. He was broad shouldered and narrow hipped. His firm, well-shaped ass made Adam want to skim his palms over it. His chest was well-developed, his stomach was firm and flat. Adam’s cock liked what he was seeing, and pushed eagerly against his fly.

Standing gracefully, Dawson reached for his dog tags that lay on top of his folded uniform. Adam carefully sat down on the edge of the bunk, not quite sure what he was supposed to do now. Dawson was half hard and seemed oblivious of his own nudity. He gathered up his uniform and placed it in the flimsy cabinet.

“How was Jason doing, when you saw him?” Dawson asked.

The ordinariness of the question caught Adam off guard. “Mostly sedated,” he replied. “The vet said the bone fracture was small. He should be able to shift tomorrow and be completely healed.”

Dawson slipped into a pair of olive colored shorts. “That’s good news,” he said. “Did seeing him help you know that he really is okay?”

Adam was mortified as he remembered how bad he’d melted down in front of Dawson. In front of everyone. “Yeah. Thanks. And sorry about how I acted today.”

“No reason to be sorry,” said Dawson. “Just let me know if you want to talk about it. Or if it would help to go visit him again. I’m starving,” he declared, before Adam could reply.

Dawson crossed to the small desk, removing the foil from the plates of food. He handed Adam one of the fresh bottles of water, before pulling out the rickety chair and sitting down. “Are you hungry?” Dawson asked.

“No. It’s all yours,” replied Adam.

Dawson made quick work of the food while they discussed the final disposition of the convoy. There’d be a debrief tomorrow, especially since they’d come under attack and there had been injuries.

When he finished eating, Dawson stacked the two plates.

“Should I run those back to the mess hall?” Adam asked.

“Hell no,” Dawson answered emphatically. “This is what PFCs are for. You’re a pack leader’s companion. You wanna see something cool?” Dawson was like an excited kid. “Take the plates, and go stand in the open doorway. Don’t even say a word.”

Adam eyed Dawson skeptically. Slowly, he gathered the stacked plates, opened the door to the trailer, and stood there silently. He looked into the dim light and heavy shadows. Silently, a young Marine with a single chevron on his collar materialized from the darkness. He approached Adam carefully.

“May I take those, sir?” asked the young Marine.

“Yes, thank you.” Adam handed over the dirty plates.

“You and Gunny Dawson have a pleasant evening, sir,” the Marine said, as he disappeared back into the darkness.

Adam quietly closed and locked the door. He looked at Dawson from beneath his lashes. “Okay, you’re right, that was pretty cool. I admit it’s good to be ‘da king.”

Dawson laughed as he stood up and reached for Adam.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Leading Adam to the bed, Dawson urged him to sit. He knelt down and started to unlace Adam’s boots.

“I can do that myself.” Adam laughed, trying to lift his foot out of Dawson’s reach. “I’m not a helpless kid.”

Dawson grabbed Adam’s ankle and pushed his foot back down to the floor. “Oh, I know you’re not a kid.” He smiled playfully. “But I do kinda like the thought of you helpless. Pinned to the bed beneath me. At my mercy.” He got Adam’s boot off, tucked his sock inside, and slid it beneath the bed.

A surge of blood flooded Adam’s cock. He chuckled breathlessly. “You like being bossy.”

“I like being in charge,” Dawson corrected as he removed Adam’s other boot. “You are the bossy one. And I like that about you. I like it when you tell me how you want me to fuck you, that you want me to fuck you harder and faster.”

Adam’s denial was on the tip of his tongue. Dawson stopped him by tugging his T-shirt up over his head. As he folded it, setting it on the flimsy bedside table, Dawson openly stared at Adam’s scar.

Lifting one hand, Dawson traced the raised flesh with his fingertips. Adam shivered at the light touch. He wasn’t always self-conscious about the deformity, but Dawson’s focus and intensity made Adam want to hide it.

Leaning forward, Dawson let his mouth hover just above the mark. “You were shot,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the scar tissue. “A bullet tore through your body. It must have hurt.”

Adam released a shaky breath. “It wasn’t bad until after I woke up from surgery.”

Dawson kissed Adam’s scar, tracing the edges with his fingers. “Adrenaline. Your scar makes you look strong. It’s a symbol of endurance and survival.”

Adam clenched his jaw. The scar was ugly. It was a symbol of failure and death. Adam struggled to slow his breathing, hoping he didn’t tear up this time.

“I want to hear what happened, when you’re ready to tell me.” Dawson kissed his way along Adam’s collarbone, as he reached for the front of Adam’s jeans.

Adam let his eyes fall closed when Dawson pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. Dawson opened Adam’s fly. He pushed the denim down over Adam’s hips. Adam tried to help without losing the feel of Dawson’s lips on his skin.

He was rocked by disappointment when Dawson pulled away. Adam lay back on the bed when Dawson pressed a palm to his chest. Dawson quickly stripped him of his jeans, leaving him sprawled naked on the edge of the bed.

Adam’s cock was growing harder. It rose up from the thatch of hair at his groin, and curved over his hipbone.

“I didn’t mean to get you worked up,” Dawson said sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have talked dirty like that. I just want to sleep next to you, if that’s what you want.”

Adam didn’t know how to answer. He looked down the length of his body, watching Dawson guardedly. His gut reaction was anger at rejection. Adam thought maybe that’s not what this was.

Dawson slowly stood up. He reached for Adam and the world tilted. Adam clutched at Dawson’s shoulders, surprised to find himself lowered carefully to the bed, his head cradled by a pillow. Dawson gently tucked the blankets around Adam.

Adam watched wordlessly as Dawson crossed the room to shut out the light. He blinked as his eyes adjusted. He could just make out Dawson’s form coming around to the opposite side of the bed. Dawson slipped out of his shorts and put them in his cabinet.

“Is the new bunk comfortable?” he asked, climbing in next to Adam.

“So far, yeah,” replied Adam.

“Good,” Dawson whispered. He slid to the center of the bed, tugging Adam back against him.

Dawson snaked his arm beneath Adam’s head, curling it over his shoulder and chest. Draping his other arm over Adam’s waist, Dawson held him. His back was pressed against Dawson’s chest, his ass cradled by Dawson’s hips. Adam lay stiffly for several moments, not sure what to do with the unfamiliar intimacy. Dawson’s body was firm against his own, his arms and legs filled with leashed strength.