Under Sean’s Protection by Lisa Oliver
Chapter Three
Meanwhile, back at the Hyam house
It happened again.
No sooner had he rolled himself out of the bathroom when there was food on the table, all laid out and ready to eat. I didn’t take that bloody long.
“Who’s there?” George growled, looking around. “Show yourself.”
Silence.
Once upon a time, George would have been able to pick up the scent of someone a mile off. Once upon a time, he could shift at will. But that story was done. Once upon a time became unhappily ever after, and George Hyam was a broken version of his former self, confined to a wheelchair with a wolf who barely responded anymore.
He wheeled himself to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
“Coward!” He barked, but to no-one in particular. As before, there’s no sign that the door or window had been opened in the past twenty-four hours. Not since he helplessly watched his family walk out the door with that bald killer.
“Son of a bitch,” George mumbled, as he made his way back to the table.
The food was well cooked, so he knew it wasn’t his wife Marie making it. It looked like take-out, but he had no clue from what shop. All he knew was that his hunger overpowered his desire to understand how the meals were showing up. He ripped apart a crusty roll with his teeth and spoke as he chewed, crumbs and half masticated balls of bread flying in all directions.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, whoever you are. Taking a man’s family away and keeping him imprisoned in his own house, like a common criminal. You’re lucky I’m in this chair, you bastard, or I’d rip your fucking jaws apart and piss down your throat.”
He slurped a mouthful of meat stew.
“Shit!” he bellowed, “it’s fucking cold. If you’re gonna bother with keeping me fed, the least you can do is serve it up hot. And I could use some goddamn salt!”
His complaints and abuse were met with silence. This was new for George. He’d gotten used to the groveling, tearful apologies, and the way his family dashed around doing his bidding just to escape his wrath. And he found plenty to complain about. No one understood what he was going through, confined to his chair like an infant. Nothing was ever right for him, and it wouldn’t be. His life fell to shit the moment he fell through the roof doing the add-on to Alpha Chalmers’ mansion.
Oh yeah, he’s not alpha anymore. Not that Chalmers, anyway. His pussy of a son is now in command of the territory.
“This sort of shit wouldn’t happen if old man Chalmers was still in charge,” George announced, but even he knew it was not true. Times were shit then and though everyone was saying it’s better now, nobody bothered to ask him his opinion.
One of those boys was responsible for my fucking accident. George seethed. He knew it couldn’t be the runty one – that one always hid when his brothers were around. But the others were typical alpha sons – big, loud and rude. George had been working on the extension for eight weeks when the accident happened. All the older boys were outside, running around like they always did. He’d been respectful, asking that the children be kept away from the construction zones, and not go near the perimeter his construction foreman had established, but the spoiled little shits never listened. In their rush, chasing one another like wild animals, bumping into the scaffolding and knocking over pails of drywall mud and tile mastic.
George was on the second story, atop a ladder doing some wiring in the ceiling. The floor was unfinished below him, essentially joists and a few planks of plywood serving as a footpath. The room below was nearly done, just awaiting its final coat of paint.
Four of the boys ran through, jumping from plank to plank, and swinging off the ladder legs. George should have had his harness on, but knew he’d only be up there for a couple of minutes. Before he could even shout “get the hell out”, he lost his footing on the ladder, fell to the floor, then through it, and ended up on the bottom of the room below.
The kids scattered and later claimed they didn’t even know he was there.
That was some time ago, and though he couldn’t feel anything below his waist, and hadn’t for years, he would never forget the cracking of his spine when he’d hit the floor. Never. Many a night he woke up in sweats – reliving the fall over and over again. George spent days wondering what he could’ve done differently – if he’d yelled sooner, if the kids had come through five minutes later… so many variables with the outcome just the same. The damage was done, and he hadn’t walked or - worse - shifted since.
“Bloody kids,” he mumbled to himself, as he pushed his food away.
“I know you’re here, you son of a bitch, so listen up. You better bring my kids and woman back to me by morning, or else I’ll…”
What? George didn’t have a clue. There’s nothing I can do.
“Asshole.” Saying that didn’t make George feel any better.
/~/~/~/~/
Asshole is right, thought Shadow. Class A.
Once the old bugger had fallen asleep, his temporary watcher and keeper slipped out for a smoke and to check in with his mate. Hopefully Marcus will have some news on when I can leave this asshole to rot.
“You okay there without me?” Shadow asked, the blue light of his phone the only illumination on the moonless night.
“Didn’t know you were gone,” Marcus joked.
“Fuck you.”
“No seriously, that’s how good you are at what you do, Shadow, darling. You blend into the shady areas. As far as I fucking know, you could be standing beside me right now.”
“I’d have my fist up your ass if I was and you’d know about it,” Shadow whispered, checking to make sure no one in the neighborhood was prowling around.
“Sounds good to me,” Marcus sighed. “In all seriousness, I miss you. When are you coming home?”
“Thanks, babe. We can swap if you like. You can come and babysit this overgrown infant. I’m getting tired of it.”
“I’d make myself known in a second, bumping into the furniture, coughing at the wrong time, or ripping his throat out. You know me, I’m all thumbs when it comes to this kinda thing. You’re the expert hider, Shadow. You’re everywhere and nowhere at once.”
“Right now, I’m lurking outside a house that’s seen better days wishing I was with you. This guy’s a piece of work, I tell you. Selfish, rude, and a fucking asshole all in one. Wouldn’t it be easier if I just disposed of him once and for all? Give me the word, and I’ll be home before you can say halloumi cheese.”
“The word’s not mine to give, babe,” Marcus said. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll off himself. Apparently, Mrs. Hyam says he threatens to do it every time he doesn’t get his own way and he certainly seemed angry enough to kill himself out of spite.”
“The place is clean.” Shadow took another drag of his cigarette. “No knives, guns, ropes, or pills within reach for him to do any self-harm. Sean’s request, on behalf of Kyle. So, unless the old man can hold his breath for longer than forty-five minutes, he’s protected from himself.”
Marcus went on to fill Shadow in on what’s been happening at the house, with Kyle and Sean settling in but not settling in.
“Have they sealed their bond yet?” Shadow asked.
“That’s just it. Sean’s waiting for Kyle’s mom and brother to get set up outside of the main house. It’s gotta be killing him. The two of them are up and down like a yo-yo tournament and can’t keep their hands off each other. It’s a never-ending cold shower in their room. None of the towels have a chance to dry.”
“Get a dehumidifier,” Shadow suggested. “No doubt they’re finding ways to release the pressure.”
“I don’t know, and I don’t ask.”
“And you? How are you releasing the pressure?”
“I’m doing it now as we speak, love bird,” Marcus moaned. “Listen”.
Shadow heard the sound of his mate’s hand rubbing his own cock and could see it immediately in his mind’s eye. He’s serviced Marcus many times just like this. Marcus kept up a steady stream of moans in case Shadow had any doubts as to what he was doing.
“Tease!” Shadow admonished as he heard his lover coming just a few minutes later, adjusting his own bulge in his pants. “Don’t you get any come on the phone, or you could mess up the circuitry. I want to be able to call you at any time.”
“Roger that,” Marcus said. “Hey, babe, something’s gotta give soon. The alpha knows the situation here is not sustainable. Call when you can. Miss you.”
Shadow ended the call when he heard the sound of breaking glass inside.
What the fuck now. Shadow hurriedly stuffed his phone into his pocket and slipped back inside the house. It didn’t take him long to find out what George was up to. He could smell the blood the moment he entered the house.
Running through on light feet, Shadow rounded the corner, into the bathroom, his eyes taking in the broken mirror missing from above the vanity and the shard of broken glass George was trying to hack into his wrist with. I do hate it when the wife is right.
“Sorry, old man,” Shadow said as he swiftly leapt across the room, beside the chair, and wrapped his fingers around George’s offending forearm. The man was surprisingly strong, and it took some effort to knock the shard of glass from his grip.
“It’s a good day to die,” George barked.
“Between you and me, any day’s a good day for you to go, but your son gave explicit instructions that no harm come to you, and so you’ll have to wait for another day.”
Shadow examined the wound on the old man’s wrist. Messy, but not fatal.
“Cut length-wise next time, not across,” he said as he reached for a towel to use as a tourniquet to slow the bleeding and to keep George’s hands from flailing all over the place. “You’ll be a lot more successful that way.”
“Kiss my ass, faggot,” George said in response.
“I’d rather chew the broken glass.”
Shadow quickly sourced dressings from the bathroom cabinet and wrapped the wound up in tight bandages. He pulled out his phone while keeping an eye on George.
“Hey, it’s me. We have a situation here. Send someone with medical training – Cam or Ranger should know what to do.”
/~/~/~/~/
Kyle couldn’t believe his eyes as he stepped back into his old house. There was his father, the strongest man he’d ever known, with his arm wrapped in a fresh bandage. Next to him was a fruit bowl full of more bloodstained dressings. But perhaps the hardest thing to comprehend was the look of pure hatred on his father’s face. Kyle shivered, as though someone had walked over his grave.
He could hear Sean approach him from behind, and the heavy hand between Kyle’s shoulder blades helped him relax. Too relaxed, whoops, he thought as he wiggled his hips a bit to try and shake off the arousal he felt anytime the bigger man was around. This was definitely not the time. Or place!
Reaching out for Sean’s free hand, Kyle faced his father who definitely hadn’t taken his eyes off of him.
“Where’s the bloody enforcer?” George growled, “Which one of you bozos is a fucking enforcer? I want to report a crime.”
“A crime?” asked Sean, with what seemed to Kyle like bottomless patience, “and what crime would that be?”
“The crimes against my son and this family. Kidnapping, for one,” the old man said, “and likely rape as well. Though I’m sure my little cherub did his absolute best to fight you and your pervert friends off,” George added with a sneer.
Kyle could smell Sean’s anger – and if that wasn’t enough - the way Sean was holding his hand tight enough to break was clue enough he was pissed off.
“It’s okay,” Kyle said as he wriggled his hand out from Sean’s crushing paw. “Let me talk to him.”
“You don’t - I can - you’re sure you...” Sean didn’t seem to know what to say. Kyle knew the bigger wolf would be overly protective, but this was his dad. He was relieved when Sean let him go and took a step back.
Moving slowly, Kyle approached his father and squatted down in front of the chair.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, referring to his father’s wrist.
“Ha!” George laughed. “Hurt? You fucking sissy. I’ve fallen through a roof and broken more bones than you have hairs on your pretty little head. This? This is nothing.”
“Good,” Kyle whispered, trying not to let his hurt at his dad’s attitude show. “I’m glad.”
“I’ll tell you what does hurt, though. Having your family ripped away from you by a group of muscle-bound freaks and being babysat by an invisible poof. That’s what hurts. Where’s your mother and brother?”
“They’re safe,” Kyle said.
“I didn’t ask how they were.” Kyle leaned back slightly as his dad’s spittle hit his face. “I couldn’t give a shit about their safety. I asked where they were, because I know they’re not where they belong, and that’s here. The audacity, leaving me alone in this house, in my condition. I could have died, for fuck’s sake.”
“You weren’t left alone,” Sean said as he stepped forward. “And the only harm you came to was that which you inflicted on yourself.”
“Mind your own business, faggot.”
“This is my business,” Sean said, and Kyle could hear the suppressed anger in his voice. “Your son being my mate, that makes this my business.”
“So, you fucked him up the ass, then?” George hissed.
“Please, dad, don’t be crude.” Kyle blinked hurriedly as his eyes filled.
“Answer the damn question, boy.” Spittle hit Kyle’s face again. “Has he or hasn’t he fucked your ass yet?”
“He hasn’t,” Kyle said, losing his battle with his tears. “We haven’t. Sean’s too decent to do that when things are so unsettled here.”
George looked to Sean. “Is my son telling the truth?”
It looked like it cost him dearly, but Sean nodded, his jaw tight.
“Good!” George yelled and just like that, the tension surrounding him completely disappeared as if someone had called “cut”. Kyle wiped his hand quickly over his wet cheeks, not sure where his father’s sudden good mood was coming from. It was all very confusing.
“How do you mean, good?” Kyle asked hesitantly. But his dad wasn’t looking at him, he was smirking at Sean.
“If you haven’t fucked my son yet, then you haven’t sealed the mating bond either,” George crowed. “By order of council law, that boy of mine is still legally under my protection.”
“What are you talking about?” Kyle cried as he jumped to his feet, backing up so he was closer to Sean. “I came of age seven years ago. I’m a legal adult.”
“Shut up, boy, and listen for once.” George looked at Sean, then across at Shadow and Marcus who were hovering by the door. “You’re all old enough to know the way things were done. Regardless of his age, so long as Kyle lives under my roof - which he does - and is unmated - which, technically, he is - he’s under my protection as his father. By law, he stays under my control until I give consent for him to leave and live as a loner, or I meet my death. I can’t see either of those scenarios happening anytime soon.”
“He’s my fated mate.” Sean bit out the words. “You can’t take that away. It’s against the law to interfere in a true mating.”
“Be that as it may,” George rubbed his hands together, his face cracked in a smile wider than Kyle remembered seeing in years. “You guys aren’t mated yet, so the ancient law of consummation still applies. That means cocks filling holes. Don’t matter if it’s a girly hole or a tight little butt hole, if the deal ain’t sealed, it ain’t worth shit.”
Sean lunged forward, and Kyle flung his arm out in some futile attempt to stop him, but Marcus got there first, holding Sean back.
“Breathe, friend,” Kyle heard Marcus say. “Let’s check this out first before we move on to turning his jugular into pulled pork.”
“Yes, yes, look it up if you want,” George said. “Call the lawyers, contact the council, speak to your alpha, I don’t give a shit. I know I’m right and I got time. Nothing but time.”
Kyle’s eyes filled with tears again as he watched Marcus make a call. He tried to think of one memory - any memory since the accident - of his father acting as a decent, loving person, but he got nothing. I don’t know how my own father could do this to me.
“Guess you should have had your way with the little poof after all.” Kyle shuddered as his father sneered at Sean. “Your being decent just cost you a steady lay.”
