“The witch of the jungle sends her regards. You disturbed her space. She doesn’t like it.” The man spat, probably aiming for Duron, but he missed anyway.
Beaumont hissed a warning.
“I said your death would be quick.” Duron went to throw him, and Beaumont was poised to catch him, but the man started cackling like a hyena.
“You keep going down that trail, you’ll be joining us in hell soon enough, anyway. The Devil don’t like strangers.”
A flick of Duron’s wrist and the man was airborne. Beaumont watched, waiting for just the right moment. The man’s feet were inches from the ground, and Beaumont could see he was ready to run, and that’s when he lunged forward. He had a foot on one man’s head, another clawed foot was digging into the second man’s back, but Beaumont caught the third, plucking him out of the air with his powerful teeth.
Alligators were efficient hunters. They liked their prey in bite-sized chunks before they ate the meat. The clothing was annoying—Beaumont would be pulling cloth fibers from his teeth for ages, if an alligator ever bothered about that sort of thing. While he had no intention of eating human flesh, Beaumont could and did chomp on it. The only downside was there was no major body of water around, or Beaumont and the captives would have done their death dance rolling in the water. Less messy that way, but biting, tearing, and chucking the bloody bits around helped relieve some of his tension.
He hissed when the last sign of life was gone. Duron was leaning on a tree, watching him, his cell phone in his hand.
“Feel better?” Duron tapped his cell phone. “Selina went to the house earlier, screaming about Roiu’s death, so we can guess what this mess was about. Wyatt’s sent a coded text. He has a meeting with the Devil in three hours at dawn. He’ll report back with a location when he has one. Oh, and I hung a fresh shirt and some pants on that tree.” Beaumont glanced to his right and, sure enough, his clothes were hanging there. “The ones you were wearing are only fit for the trash bin.”
Beaumont stalked towards his expressionless mate, his tail brushing human debris aside. Although as he got closer, he saw the pride and satisfaction in Duron’s eyes and a deep rumble came up from his chest.
“Clean your teeth first.” Duron held out another bottle of water. “You’ll need this.”
Beaumont shifted and accepted the simple gift for what it was—acceptance.
Chapter Nineteen
Duron
When Beaumont finished rinsing his mouth and cleaning the bits of human flesh off his skin with leaves, he dressed. “Do we wait for Wyatt or continue following the scent?”
Duron was sad to see the pants go back on with all the adrenaline pumping through him after watching Beaumont in action. Working alone ninety-five percent of his life, Duron had never seen what he did as fun. That would have made him a sociopath. There were some they’d trained who took pleasure in what they did. Duron’s animals had figured out who they were, and he had avoided them.
This working with a mate—it was the most fun Duron had ever had, besides the sexy part. Beaumont was a fucking badass. A protective mate who didn’t see Duron as just a killing machine. Fate had clearly thought he was worthy—though why, Duron wasn’t sure—but he wasn’t about to argue.
With the backpack slung over his shoulders; he tucked his cell phone back into his pocket. He calculated they’d possibly have an hour before Wyatt would message again. “We go on. It’s nearly light.” He glanced up at the thick branches above that shielded much of the sky. Only slithers of pinks came into view when a breeze moved the leaves. They’d stopped about five hours earlier to eat some of the protein bars Duron favored when a cooked meal wasn’t an option.
Beaumont eyed the pack, then Duron’s slashed cheek with continued concern. “Don’t you need to shift to heal that?”
His bear was the one who needed to heal it. The problem was that Duron’s bear wasn’t quiet when lumbering about. He was also pissy at being in the rainforest for so long, and would probably be unruly as he tended to be when in a mood. “I do, but my bear isn’t in the best of moods which means if I shift, he’ll want to leave. So it’ll have to wait. It’s just a scratch.” It wasn’t. The panther had punctured his cheekbone too. The pain nagged a little, but he’d had worse. “Selina sending her minions after us would suggest this is the right direction to be going. She was quick to go to the brothers and stir up trouble.” He beckoned Beaumont. “Whatever is going on, she’s up to her pretty little neck.”
Beaumont quickly matched his stride to Duron’s as he sniffed the air, making sure they were heading once more in the right direction.
“How old do you think she is?” Beaumont asked quietly.
Duron recalled when Kylo said Roiu had found her. “In her mid-to-late forties. Though she looks to be half that age. Genetics…” He left the thought there when he realized where some of her DNA had come from.
“Yes, indeed. Look at me, I’m a hundred and eight-four years old.”
Duron’s booted foot tripped on a broken branch as the reality of that hit more than it had before. Hearing exactly how old his mate actually was, put a hitch in his stride as he tried to find his balance. Beaumont looked to be a man in his late forties at best. Duron was not even a quarter of Beaumont’s age, yet he felt much older after all he’d done.
“You have had a different life to mine.” Sadness came through their link.
Not a hand holder. Duron hesitated.
Argh, fuck it!
He reached for Beaumont’s hand. Warm and rough, his fingers wrapped around Duron’s and held firm. “I wouldn’t have met you without the program.” The thought tripped off his tongue and Duron realized it came from a place of truth. Fate had chosen his destiny, and it turned out Duron wasn’t going to quibble over what he’d endured first to get here.
Warmth filled him from top to bottom as Beaumont beamed at him widely. “What a lovely way to look at it.”
Blushing, and hoping the poor light in the trees would stop Beaumont from seeing it, he shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
