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Pups would be born.

The one strange thing he noticed was that all the cabins seemed to be getting a much needed upgrade. The last time he was here, some of these places looked ready to fall down. He could smell new wood and sawdust. There were new windows on most of the cabins, too, and

some even had extensions built into them. There were two brand new

cabins that hadn’t been there before either, and the trailers were gone.

Had James won the lottery or something?

For the first time it occurred to Mason that James might not even  be the alpha anymore. Ten years had passed. Another wolf could have  come and fought him for leadership and won, forcing James to leave,

26                          Marcy Jacks

much the same way Mason did.

He pulled up to the house that the alpha and wise woman always  occupied. It was the largest, and the nicest as far as Mason was  concerned, but now with the addition of the new cabins and the

renovations to the rest, it looked old and tired.

Mason felt pretty old and tired as he turned off the ignition, parked the truck, and let his head fall back against his seat.

He was bleeding all over the place. His skin was sticky with drying blood. That sucked.

Mason looked out the side mirror and noted the way the kids were crowding around the truck, trying to see who was inside without getting too close. The scent of blood was probably what kept even the bravest of them from coming forward.

He watched as another adult, an omega judging by the size of him, worked his way through the group of pups.

Mason squinted at him as he came closer. Was that―?

The omega with shaggy blond hair rapped on the window of his truck. Mason grabbed the roller and lowered it.

Green eyes widened at him in surprise, and Mason recognized who it was.

“Tristan?”

“Mason?”

Mason laughed. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t recognize you there for a

sec.”

Tristan had just turned seventeen when Mason left, and it wasn’t like he and the other man hung out a lot, but there was no mistaking that hair or those eyes. The guy was probably still wearing flip-flops.

Tristan hardly looked in the mood for a happy reunion as he surveyed the inside of Mason’s truck. “You either, especially with all the blood. Fuck, what happened?”

“I’m not that badly hurt. Ran into a couple of hunters with shotguns.”

“Let’s get you inside,” Tristan said, opening the door and helping

Mason Returns to His Mate                    27

Mason to get out.

His legs were fine, so he had no trouble walking, but Tristan kept his hand on Mason’s good arm anyway.

Yup, he was still wearing flip-flops, Mason realized when he looked down at the man’s feet.

“Is James here?”

“He’s out hunting. I’ll send someone to get him. Just take it easy  until we can get you cleaned up.”

Mason laughed a little, calmer now that he was in familiar hands.  “Not used to handling hunters anymore.”

“I can see that.”

Tristan didn’t so much as knock on the front door to request permission to enter the leading alpha’s domain. Mason was kind of flattered that Tristan felt the situation was deserving of overlooking the basic forms of respect.

“Is he still alpha?” Mason asked.

Tristan looked at him, and it occurred to Mason that not everyone in the pack was going to be aware that Mason hadn’t kept in touch with his brother. James must have left that private.

“He is. He’ll look different from the last time you saw him, though, and he has a mate.”

“Really?”

Tristan nodded, moving the both of them to one of the spare bedrooms.

“Oh, that’s good. Good for him,” Mason said as they went inside.

When Tristan flicked on the light, Mason realized that this room  was no longer the spare bedroom he recalled it as being. There were  now six beds in here, and all of them looked like hospital beds from  the forties. The spare room had been turned into a medical room.

It made Mason wonder what had been happening over the years  for the pack to need it.

Tristan helped him onto the bed, not that Mason needed it, and  then pulled out some cotton swabs and alcohol from out of a drawer.

28                          Marcy Jacks

“Soak and clean your wounds. I’ll go get Old Maggie, and she can  help clean you up.”

“There any water in this  house?”

“I’ll bring you something. Just sit tight,” Tristan said, rushing off.

Mason felt strangely alone when the other man was gone. He  looked around the room as he swabbed the holes in his chest and arm,

and then thought about all the changes he’d seen  around the pack.

He wasn’t sure why, but it was almost as if he expected to come  back and see that no one had aged and nothing had changed with him

gone.

Nope. People were older. Some of the pups he remembered were  now adults and either out hunting with the other alphas or gone  somewhere to make their own packs.

Seeing Tristan had really hit it home for him. This place was no  longer his home. It hadn’t been since the day he was shamed and  forced to leave.

Mason had no idea what he was doing there, and never felt more out of place. At this point, he was relying on the kindness of strangers to not kick him out of the pack and allow him to stay long enough to see his brother and let his wounds heal.

He wondered how Derek was doing.

* * * *

Derek had flipped the Closed sign around more than an hour ago and was really just dallying around the shop, sweeping this, adjusting that, to stall before going home.

He was hoping against hope that Mason would come back, despite how he was still pissed off at the man.

He flicked the lights off just as the sky outside went full dark.  That was happening earlier and earlier now, and he was just getting ready to grab his messenger bag and pack it in when the door jingled.

He stopped, his heart coming into his throat with hope.  The door

Mason Returns to His

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