The Window of Heaven Gang is out in the woods to hunt for the Ghost Valley Beast. Unexpectedly the beast kidnaps Zhou Zishu and Director Jin is out for blood to rescue the only man he thought as his soulmate.
The question is , after spending a week...
It had been two weeks after and he didn't like cities, no matter its size, because of the smells. Exhaust from cars— and if in need of repair—the thick, choking, black shit that made him want to kill the owner. Hundreds if not thousands of artificial scents that people sprayed on that made no difference to him, cheap drug store stuff or high end shit that sold for hundreds of dollars, it all stank. He'd take the nice natural stench of a bum over some of the shit people called cologne and perfume. The food smells weren't always bad but he knew he didn't like fast food burgers without ever having put one in his mouth. He wasn't even sure if it was real meat they were made out of. Then there were the smells of emotions. He was in sensory overload whenever he left the woods. The scent he picked up on the early evening wind was unmistakable. He closed his eyes and turned his head, lifting his nose.
It was such an odd thing to do and he knew he must look ridiculous but beneath the regular olfactory offenses was the smell of something wild— natural, of meadows and forest. He knew this smell. It was home. It was him. His mate. He took a deep breath, letting the smell coat his tongue and the back of his throat. It was faint, a whispered promise on the wind. He opened his eyes and scanned the street in front of him. He turned left, trying not to run but feeling like he was going to lose the battle if he didn't find him fast. Beast was barely holding his shit together enough to allow Man to search the area, and for once it seemed that Wolf was right there with Beast.
His sense of smell was better, and they certainly would have a better bead on him if Wolf was allowed to track him. But a small town street was hardly the place to allow a horse size wolf to track. He walked briskly through the few people that were out. Office building gave way to a strip of restaurants and bars. The scent had been joined by a draw that he knew would lead him to him. He'd given up walking and was running, remembering to keep his speed human fast. Barely. He came to a skidding halt, struck still by the sight of him. They'd never seen him this way.. He was beautiful. He was pacing in front of a building, on the fourth turn since he'd spotted him, then he saw him.
He saw his eyes squint, to make sure who he was seeing was really who he was seeing and then his gaze became angry. He raised his eyebrow at that one. He'd stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on him but he was moving again. He'd killed men twice his size—hell—three times his size, had ripped the throats out of countless werewolves, but as ZHou Zishu made his slow approach he wouldn't have been able to fight off a fly.
He stopped long enough to check to make sure the street was clear crossed on a green light. The street was only two lanes, it didn't take him long and by the time he was in the middle of it Man, Beast and Wolf knew there were a flurry of emotions flooding his body but fear wasn't one of them. He stopped right in front of him and punched him hard enough to rock his head to the side. He was breathing hard and heavy and looked every bit as wild as he smelled. There were a few people looking in their direction but there could have been a damn congregation around for all he cared. Right now, at this moment, there were only the two of them. Nothing else mattered, no one else mattered. He raised his hand and swung again but he caught his wrist before he was able to strike him. He yanked him foward, slamming his body into his.
Neither said a word but there was a conversation taking place, an understanding, a claiming. They looked like they were about to rip each other's throats out right on the street. His grip was tight on his wrist; he could feel the fragile bones just beneath the skin. If it hurt him he didn't show it and that didn't help with the problem in his pants at all. His hold around his slim waist tightened until they were fused from chest to thigh. He twisted his arm behind Zhou Zishu's back. His mouth opened a little even though he was still staring daggers at him. His sexfogged mind ran through his options. He released his wrist but grabbed his upper arm, his fingers buried in his flesh as he led him away from the eyes of the people on the street.
Zhou Zishu didn't pull away and kept up with his hurried stride without saying a word. They made it as far as the closest ally. He followed without protest, which was a good thing, because he didn't know what he would have done if his step had faltered. He came to a stop behind a dumpster, all the privacy he could give him. They hadn't spoken to each other, his human body towered above him, yet he felt Zhou Zishu was the one with the upper hand. He looked into eyes that showed no fear, only a heated gaze. Zhou Zishu was his undoing. When nothing had broken him this Ethereal man brought him to his knees.
He pressed his body close to him, buried his nose in the crook of his neck and took a deep breath before lowering his head to do the same all over his chest and lower still until he reached his crotch. The smell of his precum shot through him like a bullet. He growled and looked up into eyes no longer brown but the light blue that reminded him of the moon. Zhou Zishu's lips were pulled back from teeth that had grown long and pointed. His hair had streaks of the purest white. He was absolutely magnificent.
He reached down, freeing an erection that threatened to pop the zipper of his pants and stood, grabbing him around the waist on his way up and Zhou Zishu wrapped his legs around him. He made small sounds deep in his throat, and grabbed his shoulders with a bruising force as he licked his lips, his chin; he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down hard enough to draw blood. Zhou Zishu hissed, the sound halted his movements, stopped his heart. Never. He would never cause him pain, would never hurt him. He looked at him and there was nothing but the thick, heady smell of his arousal, the smokiness of lust, and peppery scent of anger. Zhou Zishu punched him again, snapping his head to the side—again —and him out of his state of unnecessary concern.
He growled, and Zhou Zishu growled right back and grabbed his head and kissed him. The taste of his blood filled his mouth, his tongue flicked again and again on the cut he'd made, he returned the favor and bit him, while he hooked his leg into the back of his pants and pushed his opened jeans down his legs until they were mid-thigh. The hand under his ass ripped his jeans away and gripped his engorged cock to place at his sweet opening.
He was half crazed with lust and need that consumed him completely and yet he took a second to look at him. Zhou Zishu answered not with words but by driving his hips down, impaling himself on him. He bit him to stop himself from howling. He widened his stance, dipped his knees and his hands went to his ass. He held him steady as his hips begin to move. He was soo tight, he was big, the fit was perfect. Never had he felt anything so close to perfection. He was lost in a bliss he'd never known when he bit him on the shoulder. He moved against him, helping each push and pull as he fought to bury every inch of himself inside him. He locked his teeth low on his neck.
They were joined in every way.
And he knew he belonged to him.
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