Stripper laughed slightly. "You think so?"

Biting his lower lip, Wilbur shook his head. "No, I just say insane things when I'm nervous. And since I've never been in love before, I'm very nervous."

"So, you're saying that you love me to?" Stripper's thumbs caressed Wilbur's soft cheeks.

"I can't resist a man who offers me a deli sandwich after kidnapping me."

Stripper burst out laughing and hugged Wilbur tightly as twilight settled in and bathed them in the glow of the rising moon. He kissed Wilbur once more, but this time Stripper deepened the kiss, his hands wandering over the man's smooth skin. Wilbur's breath came out in a rush as he trembled in Stripper's arms.

Damn, Wilbur was making him crazy. Rapid-fire pulses of sensation raced through his cock, tightened his balls, and tore across his nerve endings as he tasted the man.

Wilbur arched into him, greedily sucking at Stripper's lips. Reaching between them, Stripper wrapped a tight fist around Wilbur's erection. The man bucked as his body shook. A long, desperate wail left Wilbur's lips as his fingers tightened on Stripper's biceps. The sheet floated to the porch as Stripper pressed Wilbur's back into the railing.

Wilbur parted his lips, and Stripper's tongue licked, laved, loved. It flicked inside Wilbur's mouth, only to retreat as Wilbur's hips jerked closer in a silent plea for more. His mate arched beneath him, Wilbur's hips lifting to Stripper's hand.

"I want you to fuck me," Wilbur begged.

Stripper lifted his mate until Wilbur wrapped his legs around his waist. He carried his lover inside, laid him on the bed, and then grabbed the lube. As Stripper worked the tight muscle, he plunged his tongue deep into Wilbur's mouth.

Everything about Wilbur was incredible. Everything about the human fascinated Stripper. Heat surged inside him, built around him. Wilbur owned every single part of Stripper, heart, soul, and the very air that he breathed.

Removing his fingers, Stripper settled between Wilbur's legs and thrust inside his mate with a fierce, hard stroke. The forceful, immediate sensation of being buried deep inside Wilbur, the pleasure that tore through him, brought him higher.

Shock widened Wilbur's eyes as Stripper pulled back and began working inside the tight grip of Wilbur's ass with powerful strokes. He was dying. Sweat dripped down his face as he buried his cock inside Wilbur to the hilt on the fourth stroke.

Pushing inside his mate again, Stripper stilled, grimaced, and fought not to come. Hell, he was going to come. His balls were so tight they were painful, and the sensitivity in his cock was near agonizing. He was lost in a world of such sensual pleasure that nothing mattered but the moment and his mate.

He was bound to Wilbur, more than just physically, more than just his cock buried inside the tightest, sweetest ass he had ever known. Stripper was bound to Wilbur's soul, and Stripper knew there was no way to escape. He didn't want to escape.

Flexing his hips, Stripper moved, dragging the fiercely throbbing length of his shaft back before thrusting inside Wilbur. Slowly. He couldn't go faster, not yet. One wrong move and he was gone. He'd never manage to feel his mate pulsing around his cock in release again. He'd spill into the man without thought.

"Wilbur." He groaned the man's name as Wilbur's legs wrapped around his hips and held on tight.

"Fuck me. Harder. Oh God, I'm so close..." Wilbur's hips churned beneath Stripper. "So close."

Throwing his head back, Stripper gritted his teeth and let go of the last measure of control he had held on to. Fucking Wilbur with desperate driving strokes, Stripper felt his release building, heating, threatening...

Wilbur exploded beneath him. A long, low wail of completion filled the room as Stripper powered into his mate again, again, driving Wilbur through an orgasm that was fierce and deep.

Burying in deep, hard, Stripper gave into the fierce, white-hot spurts of semen as it began to jet inside his mate. The more he gave Wilbur the more the man's ass tried to milk from Stripper. Wilbur's ass rippled and gripped and stroked at Stripper's cock until he was shaking, shuddering, certain he would never survive.

When it finally began to ease, as the strength seeped from their bodies and left Stripper to collapse beside Wilbur, fighting just to breathe, Stripper began to wonder if having this child would bring him the greatest joy he would ever know or completely destroy him.

Chapter Twelve.

T-Rex crept up the metal stairs to enter through the second floor door. The metal creaked as he opened it and quickly moved inside. Sam had taken the downstairs door, and he was already out of sight.

The place was bathed in darkness except for the sliver of light from the moon that angled through the windows. T-Rex kept to the shadows as he made his way through the second floor, checking for Reno.

The second floor didn't have many rooms. It looked as if it was used for storage. T-Rex didn't find anything up there except rats. He hated rats. He turned and moved back toward the way he'd come.

Something caught his attention. T-Rex looked down toward the large open area below to see Sam and Shott standing in the middle, a good dozen men surrounding them.

This had been a trap. Reno had somehow figured he was being followed and called for backup. Both Sam and Shott had their guns drawn, but so did the other men. It was a standoff.

And off to one side, Reno stood, wearing a smug smile. He still had the briefcase clutched in one hand. T-Rex wanted to shoot that triumphant expression off of Reno's face, but then he would have a dozen guns aimed at him, shooting. He preferred not to be turned into Swiss cheese.

Fading back into the shadows, T-Rex pulled his phone free and texted Colton, telling him of the situation. He put in the location and then pocketed his phone. He doubted anyone would make it here in time, but at least everyone back home would know what happened when they found the bloody massacre.

He eased out of the door he'd come through and hurried down the steps. Mason was still sitting in the SUV. How the men hadn't spotted the SUV was anyone's guess, but T-Rex was thankful.

He opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel.

"Other men arrived," Mason said. "I called Legend and told him."

"How long ago?" T-Rex asked as he started the motor.

"As soon as you guys disappeared into the building. I didn't know what else to do." Mason leaned forward from the backseat. T-Rex could only guess that the tinted windows had shielded Mason from view. The SUV had looked empty. The men probably thought it was Reno's.

"What do you plan to do?" Mason asked as his eyes flickered to the building. "That's a lot of men with guns to go up against."

"We're going to offer Sam and Shott a ride." T-Rex pulled the vehicle back until he was a good fifty feet from the warehouse, cut the wheel, and then shoved his foot into the gas pedal.

The SUV lunged forward and then gained speed. He drove right into the warehouse, came to a hard stop, and shouted, "Get in!"

Sam and Shoot didn't hesitate. The sound of bullets hitting the SUV was like listening to a drum roll. The noise was constant and fast. T-Rex kept his head as low as he could as he gunned the motor and took off, crashing through the back of the building. Thank fuck it was made of wood and not metal.

The windshield cracked, the side mirror was torn off, and the front of the SUV probably looked like hell, but they made it out of there. The truck jumped and bounced as T-Rex drove around the building and headed for the exit. The men had run out of the warehouse and were still shooting at them as T-Rex made a hairpin turn from the lot and took off down the street.

"Mason was hit!" Shott shouted.

T-Rex glanced back to see the lumbering ranch hand slumped over in his seat, blood seeping through his shirt.

Stripper hurried out of the house when T-Rex's SUV came to a hard stop. It took four men to carry Mason from the vehicle into the house. They carried him into the kitchen and laid him out on the table. Doctor Gallagher was there, having been called ahead of time.

The doctor moved men aside before he began his work-getting the bullet out of Mason. The guy had lost so much blood that he was too pale for comfort.

"Why didn't he shift?" Stripper asked when T-Rex moved close to him. Mason damn near took up the entire width of the table.

"I haven't a fucking clue," T-Rex said. The front of T-Rex's shirt was covered in Mason's blood. "The stubborn son of a bitch wouldn't."

That didn't make any sense to Stripper. The bullet would still be lodged in the man, but at least his body would have isolated the injury until Gallagher could get the bullet out.

"I made a phone call on the way here," T-Rex said to no one in particular. "Gator and his men are on their way. They'll be here by tomorrow. I want Reno that badly."

Stripper's eyes widened. For T-Rex to ask for help meant things were going south. For him to call Gator and his team, the world had to be ending. Gator was a bayou boy through and through. He had been born deep in the swamps, was hardcore, and took over any situation he was involved in. His team was referred to as ghosts. They were handed an assignment and weren't heard from again until their mission was complete. They got in without being detected, did their job, and disappeared into the night.

Stripper turned when Sparrow walked through the back door. His dark eyes landed on Mason. "What happened?"

"It was a setup," T-Rex said. "Reno knew he was being tailed and set up an ambush." Stripper's team held a grim expression as he watched Mason being worked on. Stripper could see the regret in T-Rex's eyes. Mason shouldn't have been there, but they'd needed a lookout, and the ranch hand seemed gung ho on being with them.

T-Rex was blaming himself for what'd happened to Mason just as Shott blamed himself for what'd happened to Bill.

The doctor finally extracted the bullet and then injected something into the ranch hand. Mason immediately shifted into his bear form. The doctor held up the bullet with a pair of hemostats. "It's laced with silver. No wonder Mason couldn't shift."

Stripper cursed. Mason was going to have a scar, but that was the least of the ranch hand's worries. There was no telling if the silver had done any damage. Silver was poisonous to shifters, and the doctor was going to have to run tests on Mason.

The man was going to survive the bullet wound. Question was, would he survive the silver?

The following day, Wilbur found Stripper in the communications room. The man was buck naked, bobbing around with a headset on. The guy was cursing, threatening someone Wilbur couldn't see as his fingers danced over the controller in his hand.

Wilbur closed the door and stood there, watching. His pulse quickened at the sight. Of course, it didn't hurt that Stripper was naked, but that wasn't what caught Wilbur's attention.

Wilbur had seen Stripper in his militant mode. That was something a person wouldn't forget. His hazel eyes had been filled with death and promise. He'd also seen Stripper at his most vulnerable. The emotions that crossed through the man's eyes still haunted Wilbur. He'd seen Stripper filled with passion, making love to him as if Wilbur was the center of his universe.

And now he was seeing Stripper relaxed, playful. There were so many layers to the man that Wilbur didn't think he would ever figure Stripper out. His mate was a complex creature with many facets. Wilbur took a seat on the carpet, crossing his legs in front of him as he watched Stripper battle it out.

This had to be Stripper's way of decompressing. Last night, after Mason had been brought home, Stripper had been quiet, remote. He still held Wilbur while they lay in bed, but Wilbur had felt as if Stripper hadn't even been there. His mate had been deep in thought and had shut Wilbur out.

But there were some things that Wilbur didn't want his mate to share. Everyone was allowed to hide a piece of them. Stripper didn't know everything about Wilbur, and that was fine.

Stripper's arms shot up in victory as he talked trash to someone over the headset, and then the man tossed the controller aside. He turned and winked at Wilbur. "Victory once again."

But it was Stripper's eyes that worried Wilbur. The smile didn't reach them. Although his mate was talking to him, Wilbur felt as if he were still being shut out. Something was going on inside Stripper's head, and the man refused to let Wilbur in.

Wilbur bounced his arms up and down playfully. "Whoop. Whoop."

After removing the headset, Stripper grabbed his shorts from the couch and slid them on. Normally, his mate always tried to ravish him. Stripper was a tactile creature and could never keep his hands to himself when it came to Wilbur. But Wilbur could feel a wall between them. His mate didn't ask him how he was feeling, or if he'd gotten sick this morning-something Stripper always asked.

He did, however, help Wilbur to his feet. Stripper smiled and walked out of the communications room. Wilbur stood there, unsure of what to do. Since this was his first real relationship, he was at a loss as to how to bring those walls down.

Wilbur wandered into the kitchen to find Taylor, Steven, Gabe, and Cameron sitting at the table. Although he'd spoken to each man since coming here, Wilbur hadn't had a real conversation with any of them. He had spent most of his time cooped up in Stripper's room, recovering.

The moment became awkward when Wilbur stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure what to say to any of them. He had come in here for a snack but felt as if he were under a microscope as four sets of eyes watched him closely.

"What?" Wilbur asked. For some odd reason, he glanced down at himself to make sure he was fully dressed. He knew he was, but having the men watching so closely made Wilbur uncomfortable.

Taylor stood and then pulled a seat out. "Come have a seat, Wilbur."

Easing past Taylor, Wilbur sat. He strummed his fingers on his knees as he waited for one of them to say something. He sure as heck didn't know how to start the conversation. Wilbur knew nothing about these men and was socially awkward most of the time as it was. The only thing he could think of was accounting, but he was pretty sure that would bore these men to death. It bored Wilbur to death half the time.

Taylor scooped some ice cream from the container sitting next to him. He plopped the sugary treat into a bowl and then slid it toward Wilbur. Wilbur smiled politely and shook his head. "I'm not allowed to have that, but thank you anyway."

"It's sugar free," Taylor stated. "I don't think a scoop will hurt you."

Wilbur really didn't want it, but he accepted the bowl out of politeness. Using the spoon, he played with the glop as he glanced around the table. He tried to think of some reason to excuse himself, but nothing came to mind. It was like sitting in a courtroom awaiting a verdict. Wilbur could feel himself sweating, ready to bolt.

"So, you're mated to Stripper," Gabe said. "Pretty cool."

"Yep." Wilbur nodded. He stopped pretending interest in the ice cream and pushed the bowl aside. "And you're mated as well. What a coincidence."

Taylor burst out laughing. Cameron joined in. Steven sat the farthest away, trying not to look at Wilbur. Stripper had told Wilbur of Steven's knack for being able to read people's minds and see their thoughts. Wilbur had an insane urge to wrap aluminum foil around his head to guard his mind.

He didn't need anyone to see how chaotic his thoughts were at the moment. Wilbur didn't want anybody to know how isolated he felt. That was his business and his business alone.

Steven glanced at him just then, and Wilbur knew the man had mentally heard him. Something passed between them, almost an understanding. It was as if Steven understood what Wilbur was going through.

"I need to tend to some things outside," Steven said as he stood. He turned and looked directly at Wilbur. "Mind helping me?"

Wilbur started to tell the man that he couldn't engage in anything strenuous, but the expression in Steven's eyes urged Wilbur to get up and walk out onto the back porch. Maybe Wilbur was curious, or maybe he just wanted to get out of the kitchen, but he gladly followed.

"They're just trying to figure you out," Steven said. "None of them are intentionally being rude. But aside from Gabe, we all come from fucked-up backgrounds, and it isn't easy opening up to someone new."

Wilbur liked one-on-one much better. "My background is pretty boring and uneventful," he confessed. "But lately things have livened up."

"Some good and some bad," Steven said. It was a statement.

"Life is a teeter-totter," Wilbur replied.

"And right now you're sitting on the downside, waiting to be lifted up," Steven said. "I know how that feels. I've been there too many times."

Wilbur knew Steven was trying to bond in some sort of way. It must have sucked living in a house where people knew what Steven could do. They probably treated him with a long-handled spoon. No one wanted their thoughts invaded.

"But I'm getting better at it," Steven said. "Rowdy has taught me a lot. But it's not easy tuning people out. I don't intentionally invade thoughts."

A pariah in his own home. Wilbur began to feel sorry for the man. He smiled and waved at Steven. He would've shaken the man's hand, but he'd been warned that touch was painful to Steven.

"Hi, I'm Wilbur Castro. You want to be friends?"

Steven chuckled, and his eyes sparkled when he smiled. "We could all use a friend every now and again."

"Are you hurting with me being so close to you?" Wilbur asked. The last thing he wanted to do was cause anyone any pain.

Steven shook his head. He pointed toward the corrals. "That's why I came outside. Whenever Colton is close, my mind grows quiet."

"But you still heard my thoughts," Wilbur pointed out. He chewed at his bottom lip and added, "So you know what I'm feeling."