Murdoch sent all his pets away from him. The changed humans were all below in their gilded cages. His fox-a-likes were all down in lower apartments, safe from his rage. He had given the order to have his pets placed away from him after the first attacks of the wolf pack had started in the outskirts of his territories. There had even been several closer to him. Too close.

The wolves were systematically killing those loyal to him, humans and hunters alike. Their ferocity was such, their targets so specific, that it could only mean one thing. Garren had commanded it. No other thing could have the pack picking off his supporters so efficiently. Pure bloods were being brought down as well and Murdoch was enraged. His faithful servants deserved to live well for the rest of their lives. To live long in the highest of positions. Not to be torn apart by Garren's pack! And torn apart they were. There was nothing left of these loyal men and women but small, crimson chunks. Nothing left of hunters either, trolls and schells and spider alike devoured and sent into hiding. And other hunters too, some that had at least killed some of the wolves before being overwhelmed and ripped apart.

To say he was furious would be to put a human name to his emotion. Nothing had prepared him for this. The world round his ascendants, the ones who cleaved to him, found themselves in battles with the pack. Some weren't strong enough to deal the pack the damage that would effect them. He knew too that the bitches had been commanded to breed.

This alone threw him off balance. Female wolves hated to breed, hated to become mothers as the state would consume them for years. But when they were commanded by their Garren, every bitch would breed, mated or no. It spoke volumes of Garren's intentions. So far the attacks had been focussed only on Murdoch's allies and not an all out war. But if the bitches were breeding then Garren expected a fight, a long fight.

He knew the reason for this unprecedented betrayal. Garren had aligned with another! Ever since the first true Garren had come to him in friendship, the pack had essentially been his to control. That long ago Garren had been elevated by Murdoch! The treachery in this betrayal by Garren made him want to tear open the bodies of all those around him. Before he, Murdoch, had gifted that first Garren with the power of connecting to every wolf the world round, the pack had been fractured, unable to communicate easily. The unifying power had enabled the first Garren to bring the pack together, communicating, seeing everything that any wolf experienced. More importantly, he had gained the ability to command from any distance. Pack animals desired a leader, clung to one. And it had been easier to do since that long ago wolf had borne the rare trait of the blue eyes, which had always been respected by the entire pack. Not only had he the blue eyes but also had been born with them. Those of the blood always developed the blue eyes, but unless they were born with those eyes, they could not pass the trait to a male pup.

They could sire only one such pup.

The difference between being born with the blue eyes and developing them later was in perception only. Essentially all blue-eyed wolves were superior in intelligence during the lupine part of their life and were, consequently, always leaders. There was the rare gold topaz-eyed wolf that retained some intelligence when changed but they too relied on the blue-eyed wolves for direction. When Murdoch had gifted that first Garren with the ability to communicate with wolves the world round, he had made the whole pack immeasurably stronger. Their numbers had begun to increase along with their new ability to outwit mankind. For with the direction of this Garren, this ultimate alpha wolf, even changed wolves could act with cunning.

Thus had begun the tradition of Garren's siring pups until a male pup had been born with blue eyes. That pup would then, in the fullness of time, become the next Garren. Because only one Garren could be born at a time, the pack was understandably fiercely protective and mortally loyal to him.

The Garren was the heart and soul of the pack.

Their only way of maintaining unity.

Their only hope for the future.

It had been his gift! Inherited by every Garren from that first one on. Given to help *him* not the damned wolves! Every wolf had called him master because the Garren's had always called him master. Now this impudent upstart decided to go against him? Because of one changed human? His fingers dug into his hand until blood streamed down onto the expensive carpeting, creating a crimson puddle on the champagne fabric. Uncaring, he stared out over his city. Everything was lit. He could see the beauties wandering down below in the cool morning. Such power he had now that he could hear every thought, smell every creature and kill with just a thought from miles away. He could control his followers around the world from this very room! He controlled all the hunters from the dark places and used them to batter at his weaker enemies. Those brothers of the opening.

He should have the world by now. But Skinner and others like him played the game well. Still, it would have only been a matter of time before all of the ascendants fell. The weaker first and then the strong. The pack would have made this process of control quicker. They would be already defeating ascendants who defied him. They would be tearing their way through his enemies. Not his allies.

The fullness of the treachery astounded him. In every existence he had been cared for by a Garren! Not some other lowly wolf, but a Garren! The current Garren had been with him for dozens of his human lifetimes. Never once questioning him. Never once defying him. The father of the young Garren would have been appalled at his son's current defiance. It had been the purpose of this new world, this throwing off of the human control of the planet, the release of all the hunters from the dark places, that had united Murdoch with that first Garren! And now that he had served his purpose, the pack discarded him! For a human!

To reverse the gift would take all of his power to do or he would strip the upstart of the gift here and now. Let the pack fall into chaos. But if he lost his power, even if only temporarily, Skinner could crush him as easily as he could the weakest of humans. However, there were other ways to make the Garren pay. It might cost him greatly in a war with the pack, but this betrayal would not be forgotten. Or forgiven. He would respond in kind. The pack had betrayed him. He would betray the pack.

He thought of what he would do and slowly a smile began to curve over his face. Yes. It was just. In fact, he thought it a perfect balance. He could take back his gift after all. For only a male born with the blue eyes received his original gift. He had been most specific when he had first gifted it. Oh yes he had. And only a male born with blue eyes could sire another. Garren had yet to sire any offspring. Should Garren die before he sired a son born with blue eyes, the gift would die with him. And the pack would be scattered once more.

Perfect.

There was only one way to kill a wolf of Garren's strength.

Feeling more himself, he went out to the balcony and leaned against the stone railing. Now, how to do it?

He chuckled then with a delicious sense of irony.

If a human could cause a Garren to betray him, the one true ascendant, than that human could certainly be made to help that ascendant in his revenge.

"It will be you, Alex, who will be my weapon. My beautiful talon of justice." He went inward then, to the darkness of thought and searched out his weapon. Searched out those who thought of Alex. What he found made him laugh. "Too easy," he whispered maliciously. Already a human was attempting to separate Garren from his mate, though that human had no idea what hell he would bring down upon himself for such a thing. He went to those this human had sent to aid in the foolhardy plan and he carefully changed the plan to one of his liking. The soldiers this foolish human had sent would never question the new plan. For Murdoch could always control evil men more easily than those who clung to goodness. They would simply incorporate his new directions as if they had been their original orders.

There was nothing to do but wait.

Soon.

Justice would be served.

There were so many new people that Mulder was hard pressed to watch them all. There was a group of humans who had come to Skinner to beg travel with him. And there were two more wolves. Old by the looks of them, but who could tell? Garren had met him and Alex and Akael with a smile, which totally ignored Alex's and Fox's glares.

"Come, Cat, I want you to meet two more of your protectors."

Alex had begun to curse then and Fox had had to smile. He had seen Alex in action and knew that his lover would hate the very idea of having a nursemaid. His smile faded when he saw the possessive way Garren was touching Alex. It was in every gesture, this possessiveness. From the way he had approached Akael first and then stroked Alex's arm when they had first come into camp. Alex had thrown off the arm time and time again while Garren just chuckled.

"Did you not enjoy your time with Fox?"

Mulder thought back on that question, how there was a threat implicit within it. If Alex didn't behave then there would be no more time for the two of them to be together. Alex had instantly understood and moved off with Garren with one, unreadable look at Fox. Those brilliant jade eyes were so guarded but Fox knew what he was feeling.

Trapped.

Owned.

How Mulder himself felt right now. Skinner stood beside him quietly. He raised his eyes to him, the brown eyes staring into his seemed so filled with concern. But right at this moment Mulder just didn't care. He broke the gaze and looked again toward Alex. He was looking bored, extremely bored as the two new wolves spoke to him. It didn't look as if he were paying attention at all. That beautiful face was expressionless, but Mulder wanted suddenly to wrap him in his arms and tell him that he loved him. Would always love him.

"You're tired, Fox. Why don't you sleep? Soon we'll be leaving for San Francisco. I can wake you then," Skinner said gently, running a hand through Fox's hair. The idea of sleep brought immediately the image of Murdoch. In his dreams, taking him. He felt himself stir at the thought and he straightened in shock.

"What? What is, baby?" Skinner asked, kneeling beside Fox and taking his face between strong hands.

Mulder shook his head, but he couldn't stop thinking of the sensations Murdoch made him feel. He tried to focus on the swing of the whip. On the sling and the pain and humiliation he felt there, but those thoughts only served to arouse him further. He actually longed to be spread out in that web-like sling, spread tight and hard apart, licked, suckled, beaten and fucked. He felt the need rise like an acid gorge in his stomach, poisonous and deadly to his sanity. He knew all he had to do was sleep and Murdoch would take him in the darkness.

It was madness.

It was intolerable, even for a moment, even for one breath.

He stood abruptly and clenched his fists. "No. No I don't want to sleep."

"Fox..."

"No!" Mulder knew his voice was too loud, could feel the eyes of the new people in the camp fall to him, could feel the eyes of the wolves on him as well. He looked at his fists. "No, I don't want to go to sleep. Leave it alone, Walter," he said grimly.

"Fox, you are exhausted! You are upset and you need to just rest."

"Rest?" He looked into the strong face. "Rest is not going to help how I feel, Walter."

Skinner sighed and resolutely nodded. He didn't want to push Fox too much. "Okay. Just calm down." Fox was wound so tight. A way to relax him came to mind. A way to get Fox to forget everything for a few hours. A way to make Fox purr with pleasure instead of this tension. Fox had always been high-strung, like a Thoroughbred horse stabled with plow horses, eager to break away and be given his head. He drew the tense body close and pressed his lips softly to Fox's forehead.

"Calm down," he repeated deliberately feeling Fox respond to his command. He kissed the lush lips then stroking the sweet flesh lightly with his tongue he tasted him. Pressing his tongue forward with wet intent between the full lips he breathed in Fox's breath, savoring it, wanting more.

Fox shivered. Walter's touch soothing him and making him forget Murdoch for a moment.

"What's wrong with him?"

Walter raised his head to see Alex next to them. The eyes that were heavily guarded by black fringe were burning. Like jewels, Skinner thought. Like beautiful jewels buried in a wild jungle, caught by radiant light. Mulder didn't respond to Alex's voice and Skinner smiled at Alex. "He's tired."

Alex glared at Skinner's words. Fox didn't look tired he looked dazed. "What are you doing to him!" he demanded. He reached for Fox but Garren was there holding him back.

"Let Skinner deal with Fox, Cat. He belongs to Skinner."

Alex's eyes widened in fury. "You are both in-fucking-sane! Both of you! Fox is *not* his. I am *not* yours! I want to know what is wrong with him." He struggled against Garren's hold. "I'm warning you, Garren! Let me go."

Mulder held his hand out to Alex and spoke clearly, "Calm down, Alex. I am just tired. And I think I should sleep."

Alex heard the voice, heard the tonelessness in it and glared again at Skinner who was looking back at him with certain remorse. He could see how Skinner hated that Garren held him. Fuck him!

"I'll go with you," Alex finally said. "That is if it is okay with you two!" he hissed.

"I never wanted you separated from Fox, Alex," Skinner sighed. "Go with him."

"No," Garren said firmly. "He will not be rewarded for such defiance."

Skinner stood rigid for a moment before saying, "They will never accept being separated, Garren. Let them comfort each other. It can only help you."

"Do you tell me how to deal with my mate?" Garren asked but there was no heat in the question. Alex was still now, but he could scent the fury in his mate. He wanted to please him, but to give in always would surely only make Alex more difficult. If such a thing were even possible.

"I only make a suggestion. They need each other, Garren. As we need them."

Garren sighed and released Alex only to be rewarded by another glare by those gemlike eyes. Fox's eyes were a calm rebuke, his lush lips pressed tight as if waiting to be teased apart. He couldn't blame his mate or any other for wanting to dally there. Such a beautiful creature. But, he too was a handful. Perhaps in a different way than his spitting cat, but a handful no less. But what a delicious handful for all that.

"Go then, mate. But stay only until he sleeps."

Fox bristled at the fact that they all were acting as if he couldn't even take a nap alone. He didn't voice his anger for fear that Alex would then be kept from coming with him. They needed time alone to plan. He settled for an expression he was certain would give full display of his ire.

Skinner noted the sulky pout on Fox's face and knew the reason for its existence on that face. Whatever its reason it held all three men captive for a second. He saw Garren's eyes narrow with appreciation and he abruptly cleared his throat, catching Garren's gaze and giving him a warning glare for his sudden interest in Fox.

Alex simply moved toward Fox and without a word he wrapped an arm about Fox's waist. "Let's go, baby."

"Just so you know that I don't need a babysitter," Fox said quietly.

Alex was taken aback for a moment and then he saw the smile in Fox's eyes and he chuckled softly, not wanting to include Skinner or Garren in this moment. "I am just taking advantage of the situation," he whispered and was happy to see Fox smile fully. Despite his words, he was worried. What had caused Fox to shout at Skinner? It hadn't been about him, he knew instinctively. Something else.

When they entered the big tent they had last slept together in, Alex sat down and waited for Fox to speak first. Fox was standing over him, distracted. There was such a lovely look of confusion on his face that it made Alex want to cuddle him close and taste every inch of him, but he knew that Fox was thinking about something that worried him. The way Fox was nibbling his lower lip, the way he had seemed to forget that he and Alex were alone, pointed to it.

"Alex?" Fox asked hesitantly.

"Yeah? What is it, baby? Talk to me." Alex reached up and took Fox's hand drawing him down beside him. They fit together perfectly, he thought as he waited for Fox to continue.

"Those witches, they did something to me—something to my mind," Fox shuddered. He knew they had put some sort of spell on him. At least that was what he desperately hoping they had done. That it was some sort of enchantment. If not, he was well and truly insane. Without Skinner's calming presence, his lust for Murdoch was rising again. He could feel the need as a tangible presence. He wanted to be stroked and pawed and licked and pounded. Such was the need that he knew that if he had to deal with it long he would be calling out to Murdoch, begging him to claim him.

And if that happened, if Murdoch came to take him, he might as well be dead. "They did something, Alex."

Alex stiffened and automatically drew his arms tight about Fox's torso drawing close to him. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"

"I didn't say anything earlier, because I thought—I thought they had been stopped in time. I thought they were trying to bring me to Murdoch. I saw him, Alex."

"Murdoch?"

"Yes. I—the point is I didn't really understand what they were doing. I think I do now." Fox sighed then and stared at Alex's face, finding succor in the beauty and strength there. What would he do without Alex? Why would he want to go on?

"What? What did they do?"

"I think they—some kind of spell maybe—I don't know really! I mean I have only rarely heard of witches who lived in water! How do I know what they can do?"

That look was back. Utter concentration, Fox Mulder style.

"What kind of spell?" He was more worried than he showed. His voice was calm, his hand steady in its slow rub against Fox's ribs. He felt Fox move into him in response to the stroking and he had to steady himself from taking a more interesting approach to touching Fox's fantastic body.

"I think they are making—trying to make—tried to make me want Murdoch," Fox whispered. He stared up at the top of the tent, mapping visually the smooth dome without any real interest. This couldn't be real. He couldn't handle *wanting* that man—that thing. But he did. He burned with it.

"What?"

Alex's voice was so nearly insulted sounding that Fox had to smile. Though it was a small smile. "You heard me."

"How do you know?"

Fox turned to look at Alex's face once more, his expression clear. He tilted his head and raised both brows as if to say, "Can't you guess?"

Alex flushed angrily. "You've started wanting—you do?"

"I don't want him, Alex!" Fox protested, knowing he was lying. God how he wanted him! His strength and cruelty and such perfect attention to the minutia of sensation was enough to make Fox want to slide desperately against Alex to relieve the building pressure. Murdoch's great knowledge of the male body and what drove it crazy with molten lust was something he craved. "I hate him! What he did to me, Alex. Like I was an animal—some feral animal that he had no need to treat well. He tied me up! He beat me! He raped me..." His voice trailed off as he was lost in the memories, the terrible, humiliating, incredibly hot memories. He knew the new feelings of those indecent things weren't his. Were in fact some malicious seed planted by the three witches. He clung to that now like the proverbial lifeline.

"Oh God, Alex! What he did—I can't stand to think about it. There were so many people there," he whispered.

His voice had a tremble to it that Alex had never heard. Was horrified to hear it now. He made a small sound of distress in response, totally unprepared for this. He could only hold onto his baby with strong arms and listen to the painful memory tear through Fox.

"I wanted to know where you were," Fox continued, feeling the need to lance this wound. He had to tell Alex. If he said the words, perhaps Alex could help him understand it. Deal with these new feelings. "I—Alex, the only thing I could think of was you." He stroked Alex's face then, soothing himself with the mere touching. "I thought they would kill you. Then—then I—he had me strapped to the sling. God, Alex. God!"

"It's okay, Fox, you don't have to..."

"But I do. I do, Alex. I do. Because what I am feeling now—it's making me sick! You have to know. You have to tell me that it can't be possible to want this! I'm burning up with it, Alex."

"You already know you don't want it, baby! You already know. What is the first thing you told me? You said that the witches were in your mind right? Casting some spell?"

Fox nodded.

"Then, baby, you already know." Alex kissed Fox's face on that delicate juncture of ear and cheek. "Don't do this to yourself."

"I need to. I need to tell you, Alex. Please—please..."

Alex jerked at the pleading tone, the very nearly undone sound of Fox's voice. "Oh, baby, please don't say please! You know I would give you anything! You don't have to beg me! I'll listen and hold you and love you. I just hate to hear you in pain."

"Alex," Fox hissed, almost unable to say what he knew he must, what he knew he despised about himself at that moment in time when he was open and vulnerable to Murdoch. "I screamed—I begged him and anyone who could hear me to stop—to help me! God, Alex! I begged him! Why did I do that? Why did I give him the satisfaction?"

Alex had never heard anything, which so rocked him, which made him so physically ill. Not even when Fox had been taken by the vampire, not even when he had been returned with no recall of the love they shared. He felt physical pain. It was a pain that had no voice, had no cessation. He could only make a guttural sound of agony.

"I was stripped, spread out and hung upside down—or nearly upside down—knowing he was behind me—and there were so many people wanting to watch. He whipped me first between—between my buttocks." The word buttocks had seemed to come out like a surprise. Like Mulder himself could not believe what he had to say. That word, that one word, that admission made him shudder. "There was a strap on my neck and he held it tight—like an animal, like I was an animal. And when he raped me—I couldn't stop him." A strangled sob tore from Fox. "If he—if I am ever with him again—I'll die. I know it."

Alex felt as if he could no longer breathe. How can you hear something like that and do nothing? There was nothing in his past that prepared him for this absolute helplessness. Fox's moan of anguish and the shaking of his body were a prelude to the sudden sobs that shook him. Alex's groan was a wordless fugue for Fox's pain.

"And now I feel so—Alex, I want that—I don't and I do! I can't feel like this. Not for a minute. I don't know how to stop, but when I think of being with him—I burn. Now. Right now, I am burning. I want to call to him! To beg to be raped! What is wrong with me? Why can't I fight it? Help me! Help m-me!"

There was a whispered desperation in his voice. A whisper that shrouded an unborn scream.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here," Alex groaned, desperately kissing Fox's wet face.

"I want him and I know it's crazy! I c-can't feel this way."

"Baby, you don't feel that way! It's a lie!" He felt the tears on his own face as Fox seemed to struggle to breathe. "It isn't you. Use that brilliant mind of yours. Fight it, Fox. God, I love you, baby. I love you! I love you!"

Fox heard him, knew what Alex was saying was true. More, he heard the pain in Alex's voice and recoiled from it. Everything in him struggled to contain the emotions that were tearing him apart so that he could stop Alex from hurting. He stroked Alex's arm and pulled closer to him, ignoring the sudden, sharp pain in his nipples from the tight embrace. "I'm sorry, Alex. Please don't—be upset."

Alex buried his face in Fox's neck and for the first time in his adult life, he sobbed. Nothing like his sorrow in the shower in Fort Bragg, but sobs that racked him. He could not protect Fox! And that knowledge was a death for him. An agonizing certainty that he was nothing. That he had no way of even helping Fox deal with his pain because he had spent his life as a killer and so was reduced to repeating 'I love you' as if it were a talisman to ward off not only evil, but pain.

Suddenly it was Fox who was comforting Alex and even that too was painful for Alex. Every soft word of comfort from his shaking lover drove the stake of self-recrimination deeper. Every stroking touch filled with so much love, humbled him as nothing could ever have humbled him. His only recourse was to hold tight to Fox and repeat his vow of love over and over in a voice that sounded, even to himself, lost.

"We'll make it, Angel. My Angel," Fox whispered, hating what he had done to Alex. Hating himself for burdening Alex when Alex had endured so much already. "My beautiful angel."

***

Outside the tent Akael and Emil paced restlessly, small whines coming from their throats as they scented the mate's pain. Had it been physical they would have torn into the tent and torn apart the cause, but with this emotional pain only the Garren could go to his mate. Josia joined them and his blue eyes were narrowed with concern.

"What causes this pain?" he asked growling.

Akael shook his head indicating he did not know. "The prince feels pain too. Perhaps they deal with their new state."

Josia shook his head and began to pace, agitated. When Skinner and Garren approached they were struck by the three wolves intent restlessness.

"The mate is in pain," Emil growled suddenly, his hands changing to claws uselessly with no enemy to shred.

Garren and Skinner both hurried forward, Garren starting to change even as he began to scent that the pain was not physical. Still he moved forward and nearly came undone when Skinner grabbed his arm. So intent on the mate were the three guardians that they missed the hand on their Garren's arm.

"They need time, Garren," Skinner said softly. "Let them deal with this. You can't intrude or you'll worsen their pain."

Garren felt the change coming, wanting to tear at Skinner for attempting to interfere with his care for his mate. The pain he scented coming from Alex was maddening. But his mind recognized the scent of Fox's pain as well. He knew Skinner spoke true. Still it was maddening.

"I can't stand his pain, Skinner," he husked. "I can't. My mate's pain becomes my own. I cannot allow it."

"Then give him up," Skinner suggested. "Their pain is their separation."

Garren snarled at him and yet said nothing for a moment. "Take your hand off me, Ascendant!"

Those words focussed the attention of the three ancient wolves and their agitation was ripped away to be replaced by animal fury. They moved forward with sudden, choreographed stalking. The mate's pain was forgotten. There was never to be any touching of the Garren. They were stalled in their approach by a look from Garren and though they stopped in their tracks all three changed in response to the threat to their Garren.

Skinner raised his brow at the approaching wolves but turned back to Garren. "I can feel their thoughts, Garren. You can only sense the emotion, not the cause. I want what you want. For them to be happy."

Garren stared at him, considering his words. He had been listening to an ascendant all his life. They did know the hearts and souls of those around them. He could not help his mate if he didn't understand him. And helping his mate was more important than pride or position or anything else that had come before. His being the Garren was his responsibility to the pack, but to confuse pride and the anger he felt at being touched or told what to do by a relative stranger took less priority than his mate's well-being.

"What do you think I should do? I cannot bear his pain and I cannot release him. His pain seems more to me than mere separation from Fox. They are not separated. What do you see, Ascendant? Prove your worth to me now."

Skinner knew what he was asking and so he searched the two male's thoughts. He frowned darkly then, glaring at Garren. "Your old master is the cause of their pain. Fox remembers and Alex regrets." But there was more. He frowned even darker still. "And he still toys with Fox," he added with a furious bark.

Garren was expressionless as Skinner pushed forward. He passed the three changed wolves with a red-eyed warning and entered the tent. It was Fox who stared up at him with moist eyes, Alex's face was buried in Fox's neck; both were shuddering.

"This isn't a good time," Fox said quietly.

His words startled Alex who hadn't even heard Skinner enter. He raised his eyes to the big man and Skinner was startled by the shock on Alex's face.

"I'm not even me anymore," Alex whispered to himself. He heard Fox whisper something to him, but he just shook his head. He lay there like some useless whore. Wouldn't Spender be laughing his ass off if he could see his assassin now! He knew that most of his lack of awareness was the knowledge that there were too many powerful men outside who would not let anything in that would endanger him or Fox, but that knowledge didn't give him succor. He had lost his edge. For someone who had survived so long on his intelligence and ability alone, there was no release from excuses, no matter what their logic. He felt himself drawn into Skinner's embrace and wanted to pull away, to prove to Skinner that he didn't need him, but felt himself turn into the strong embrace instead.

Skinner held Alex with mixed emotions. He wanted to be able to hold him forever, not just to comfort him. He smelled the mint that always seemed to cling to the assassin and bent his face to bury it in Alex's hair, staring at Fox over the top of Alex's head. He deliberately sent them calming emotions while he stroked Alex's back.

"You are yourself, Alex. You are. You are yourself in incredible situations. You haven't changed, Alex, your environment has. You cannot change it." He raised a hand to stroke Fox' face, wanting desperately to comfort him as well, but certain that Fox would never allow himself to be comforted while Alex was in pain. In that way, he was stronger than Alex. He knew too, though, that Alex would not consciously leave Fox to his own pain. But to be a man like Alex, someone so incredibly well prepared for anything life threw at him, to suddenly be as near to helpless as a person can be, was devastating. And he could sense too, that Alex was more hurt than even he wanted to admit to himself by Skinner giving him to Garren like some pretty prize.

"You need to remember how to adapt. That has always been your real strength, Alex. Not your abilities. Your ability to change with the situation. You know I speak the truth. Find your strength in this situation, my assassin."

Alex was calming, though a part of him knew that Skinner was making him calm with some use of his power. Still his words struck a chord of truth. To change with the situation was always something that had separated him from the dead men who failed around him. But he had never had to doubt that he could take care of himself or someone he loved. Though in truth, he had never loved before Fox.

Skinner heard Alex's thoughts and bent his lips to Alex's ear. "And too, the newness of your love makes you vulnerable to anything. Be easy, Alex. Let yourself change again. Take this chance to accept things, for they will never be as they once were. I wish I could keep you with me for always. I know you will never understand how much I hate the thought of giving you away, but don't let that betrayal hurt you any more. You will never be without Fox. Not as long as I live. And, Alex, I will never let anyone hurt you. I will take you from Garren and damn the world if he ever hurts you." Alex's eyes raised to his and there was doubt there, but there was a reservoir of hope there too.

He sent Alex all his thoughts, shared every motive in his decision and though Alex could not forgive it, his eyes cleared and there was some understanding there.

Walter squeezed Alex tight for another, poignant moment before he released him to attend to Fox. He traced his right index finger down Fox's face, lightly grazing the mole that made his face almost too beautiful with its seductive placement one stroke away from the lush lips. "I know what you are feeling, Fox. Let me take their enchantment away from you. You know in your heart how you feel about Murdoch, about what he did to you. Follow your heart now, Fox. Don't believe I'll ever let you feel that way." He drew a suddenly still and silent Fox to him.

He was surprised at how much it took for him to find the witches suggestions and even more strength to draw them out. Far more powerful than Mikhail's sorcery, these witches had woven a tangle of emotions for Fox. Despite the energy that this struggle took, Skinner remained still, holding Fox closely, tenderly, stroking his back rhythmically as he called upon his power to cleanse Fox of the vile entrapments of the witches.

When it was done Fox was sleeping in his arms. He was reluctant to release his precious burden. He kissed Fox's face and lips before laying him down gently. "It's done," he whispered to Alex.

"You undid the spell? Whatever those witches did?" Alex whispered too, not looking at Skinner for a moment as he spoke. His eyes stayed locked on Fox, looking at the slightly bruised look under his closed eyes. There was such vulnerability in that flesh, slightly purple from lack of sleep and emotional strain. He reached out a hand and carefully touched the soft flesh under Fox's left eye, as if by his touch he could take the sign of stress from him.

"Yes."

"He has been through so much, Skinner. How much more will he be able to take? When will Murdoch ever leave him alone?" The question lay there. Neither expected Murdoch to ever give up in his quest to own Fox. When Skinner stood, Alex finally looked at him. "Thank you for helping him, Skinner." And though he said nothing about himself, his eyes thanked Skinner for whatever he had done to calm him—center him.

Skinner lowered his head marginally and then, with a depth of emotion that startled Alex he said, "I would do anything to keep him safe, Alex. I would do the same for you." When Alex's eyes narrowed slightly Skinner sighed. "I have seen into Garren's heart as well, Alex, and though he is a killer he will never hurt you."

"He hurts me by keeping me as his toy and away from Fox. When he can separate us simply at whim, Skinner, he hurts me."

There was no response Skinner could give to that. Alex was right. No matter what Garren felt for Alex, no matter Skinner's own intense emotion for Alex himself, the two men were not free to choose their own path. His decision to give Alex to Garren could be reduced down to that simple fact. Fox and Alex were together at Garren's and his own whim.

He said nothing as he stepped out of the tent, breathing the fresh air deep into his lungs before facing Garren who waited just outside the tent. "It is done," he said simply.

Garren moved passed him with the intention of entering the tent and Skinner frowned. "Fox is sleeping in there," he said firmly. His objection was clear. He did not want Garren near Fox.

Garren smiled darkly and Skinner was again struck by the creature's beauty. The ascendant in him mourned Garren's own power and strength. Here was a man who would have made quite a lovely toy. His body alone was worth hours of attention, but the beauty of his face, the fall of silken hair, the gleam of the gas-flame eyes were breathtaking.

"I can smell my mate on you, Skinner. You should be careful not to think you still own them both. I am going in there. Do you try to stop me, you will feel the way Murdoch is feeling now. Besieged by the pack."

"Then take Alex out," Skinner insisted, not trusting the wolf to leave Fox unviolated.

"And separate them," Garren jeered, smiling as his words stuck home. He entered the tent and deliberately closed the flap to indicate to Skinner that he had had his time—his use. His eyes took in the scene before him with great appreciation. His little cat was snuggled up to the sleeping prince, rubbing his nose in Fox's hair and fairly purring with contentment. Both were so beautiful he gave a small, yearning growl.

That noise earned him a little glare from his mate, who had been watching him intently since he had entered.

"Don't even look at him that way," Alex hissed quietly.

Garren knelt down beside Fox, staring at Alex with quiet amusement. "You always give orders, Cat," he chuckled.

"Quiet," Alex insisted. "He's exhausted." He petted Fox's face when Fox made a small noise and moved closer to him. "Why don't you leave? Let him sleep."

"I want to ask you if you are feeling better. I want to talk to you. Do you stay in here with Fox we talk here. Of course, I am ever your servant," he said smiling with condescension, "I will certainly leave with you if you do not want to disturb your pretty's sleep."

Alex's lips thinned and his finely carved nostrils flared with irritation. "He isn't a 'pretty!' He is a man!"

Garren shrugged, unconcerned, taunting his cat into pretty anger by running a finger down Fox's arm. He got the reaction he wanted when Alex hurried to his feet and fairly crackled with rage. Garren smiled wickedly and took one last moment to appreciate the prince's allure. The scent of him, the beauty. Garren knew instinctively that Fox would whimper and moan prettily as he was pleasured. And too he could recall quite vividly how beautiful the man had looked in Murdoch's sling. The smell of whipped, intimate flesh had stirred him and those of the pack who served as guards for Murdoch. He recalled now the sleek lines and rounded ass. Delicious.

He stood then and turned his attention to his mate. The tension and ire had tightened Alex's body and the fire that he loved made the jade eyes shine. He followed Alex out and was further amused to see Skinner nearby. He couldn't resist running his hand over Alex's tight, muscular ass. Didn't want to resist. He gave that round flesh a lusty squeeze and bent to whisper into Alex's ear. "You need some more attention here soon, Cat." He chuckled as Alex jerked away from him and glared. Would his cat ever realize how much he enjoyed this spitting and hissing?

"Forget it, Garren," Alex warned. "Don't you have something else to do? Do you always have to stick to me like some kind of disease? Get it through your thick skull," he rasped out with frustrated anger, "I do *not* want you! Find some other toy to drive insane."

"Insane?" Garren grinned. "Insane to be taken?" He chuckled with true amusement. "You become insane so prettily, Alex."

Alex snapped his mouth shut and looked away from the irritating wolf. "You wouldn't have had anything of me if you hadn't poisoned me," he insisted. "You and your damn spore! Don't think I don't know it."

Garren shrugged. It was unimportant to him. "The result is the same, Cat. You need me. And you purr so wonderfully well."

Alex turned his attention away from Garren resolutely and immediately found Akael. He was relieved to find that Akael was gesturing Garren over.

The old wolf had a stern look on his rugged face and Garren bent to Alex. "Stay here, mate, I go to speak with Akael." He chuckled again, a sound that was beginning to grate on Alex's nerves. "I assume this discussion will be about you." With one last slap on Alex's rear, he moved off towards Akael.

Alex immediately made his way to the new arrivals. He would have gone back to Fox, but feared his entrance on top of all the entrances and exits to and from the tent would wake Fox. He needed sleep. To assuage his own curiosity about the new arrivals and to verify to himself that they were no threat to Fox. He knew all too well how eager even humans were to touch changed people. There were several that made his instincts for caution come alive. He knew the other two old wolves, Josia and Emil, were following him, but unlike Akael, they had very little to say to him and so they were distant shadows. Since they had been first introduced to him they had said nothing to him at all. In fact they seemed to defer to Akael, which was odd to Alex as Garren had introduced one as the brother of his father.

God, he hated how Garren talked. "'The brother of my father's my ass! Just say my damn uncle," he grouched as he neared the newcomers. "A fucking formal werewolf!"

There were two men in the group who had the look of ex-marines. They had short cut hair, big bodies that seemed less sculpted in a gym than by pure labor. They had defiant expressions on their faces, but blood-stained clothes. The two of them stood out, both large men, both kept their guards up and looked extremely uncomfortable. They also seemed to have made themselves the protectors of the small band, which consisted of six men and five women. He wondered what they had endured to get here. He actually didn't really care. He just wanted to make sure his first impression of them was in fact correct.

He wandered close, casually and saw them react to whatever damned change had turned him into some damned Penthouse Pinup but they seemed to resent their attraction to him and studiously avoided looking at him. After only a few moments of conversation he had solidified his first impression. They were what they looked like, retired military that had probably been upright citizens. In fact if they were to stay away from Fox, he wouldn't have any beef with them.

It was one of the women and her companion that made him wary. She was diminutive, pretty even, with a fresh face that fairly screamed innocence. She smiled shyly at everyone, stuck close to her male companion. Now he was another one who bore close inspection. He was well muscled but not big and he appeared to be as shy and innocent as was the woman who clung to him. Now if that ring on her finger had been put there by that unassuming man and they were both what they seemed, how in the Hell had they even survived? Their accents were mid-western so it wouldn't be far off to guess that they had traveled quite a way to get to the Pacific coast.

How in the Hell had they made it? More importantly, how had they *both* made it. None of the other survivors had ever seen each other before they had begun their trek, at least according to one of the retired Marines. The woman looked up at him and smiled again before hiding her face in her husband's shoulder. The man looked at him and shrugged as if to say, 'You know women.'

Alex narrowed his eyes and took a step back from the two. There was something definitely off with these two. What exactly it was he didn't know. But it was hard to believe that these two could have survived the horrors that had been unleashed on the world. He had seen enough horror himself and that had been almost exclusively within the protective shadow of Skinner's power. What it was like outside that protection would be a living nightmare. And these two, these innocents survived?

Impossible.

He knew that if it were as bad as he suspected, that he himself, before this damn change, would have made it—maybe. Luck and banding together had everything to do with who made it west. And conceivably the others could have protected these two. But that was only *after* they banded together.

He decided to engage them in conversation. Sure that they would reveal themselves to be other than what they appeared. Sure that that would inadvertently give themselves away.

On his first assumption he was quickly, quietly proved correct. On the second he couldn't have been more wrong. They *wanted* him to know what they were and who they were from.

***

Before he began, Akael watched Alex walk away from where the Garren had bade him stay. He also watched Josia and Emil follow at a distance. They would have to stay closer he decided.

"What is it, Akael, that you summon me over to you," Garren said irritably as Akael seemed to ignore him. He sighed deeply as Akael merely held up a stilling hand. Akael was most disrespectful at times. He followed Akael's gaze and he frowned. Alex had of course moved on and was now walking toward two big men. Newcomers who smelled of death. They had killed many and held many dead in the last few weeks. He turned back to Akael, impatient. Surely Akael could trust Josia and Emil for two minutes. For that was the length of time he was giving Akael for this conversation.

"Do you have something to say, say it and be done with it. I am growing impatient," he said finally and his tone was a command. Akael immediately turned back to him, but his raised brow ruined the effect of absolute obedience. Garren had to admit there were drawbacks to having his old protector around again. A muscle clenched in his jaw and finally Akael seemed to understand that he was angering his Garren and bowed his head for a moment. A show of respect that assuaged Garren entirely. Assuaged him entirely because it was Akael, he sighed to himself. Still, Akael knew all too well the affection he could claim in Garren's heart.

"I beg your forgiveness, Garren. My rudeness..."

"Akael, stop this. We both know you have never begged me for anything," Garren growled.

"Then we can have this conversation without impatience?"

Garren bristled again. His old taskmaster had just put him in place again. "Tell me what it is you need to tell me, Akael," Garren said calmly.

"It concerns your mate."

Garren sighed. "He is a handful, I know."

"He is undisciplined and completely reckless. He needs punishment. And I need to be able to do more than growl at him from time to time. He has no fear of me and he certainly doesn't fear you."

Garren's eyes narrowed. "You will not."

"Then you tie my hands. Or do you want me to carry your mate everywhere?" He explained the situation with the witches and Alex's surprising ability to bring Akael to his knees and go where he had been forbidden. When Garren couldn't hide his smile Akael shook his head. "It is not humorous."

"Akael, what kind of cat would he be without some scratching and spitting. If you cannot handle him..."

"You do not *allow* me to handle him, Garren. Even you were not above punishment. Think you that your parents liked to see me punish you? Think you they enjoyed your sulks after? Think you *I* did?"

Garren shifted on his feet and glared at him. "That was different. I had to learn. If I did not make adulthood, the pack would be lost."

"Ah, yes. That is true. Garren, forgive me once more. I will not speak of this again."

Garren stared at his taskmaster suspiciously. "What is this? Do you have a point, make it!"

"No, Garren, I have no point. You reminded me that your parents entrusted me with keeping you alive until you could take care of yourself. It was something that they thought important. That they knew without discipline the vulnerable are dangerous to themselves. This situation is different." He bowed his head again.

Garren wanted to howl with frustration. It was like the old days, when Akael would instruct him in this way. Make him do all the work and figure out what Akael meant. "Yes, it is different," he said firmly, eyeing Akael's bent head carefully.

"My mistake was in thinking you placed as high a value on your *human* mate as the pack placed on you. A mistake indeed."

Garren knew then. Of course he would place as high a value on his mate! And Akael had trapped him. He let Akael wait before he said, "I will keep him from Fox should he disobey you. You may tell him so," he said magnanimously.

"Yes, that is what I will do," Akael agreed. And still his head was bowed.

Garren ground his teeth together. "It will work, Akael, though I know well that you prefer a more hands on instruction."

"Yes, of course it will work. He is so attached to his pet. He will be desolate every time he is punished." He raised his eyes to Garren and there was hardness in his amber eyes. "It is more effective than a simple blow that will leave no damage. He grieves every minute he is apart from his pet. He would do anything not to feel that type of pain."

Garren flinched.

"The physical blows would be something he dreaded far less." Akael looked at the man in question, he was now sitting with the two humans who smelled of soap and confidence, and looked as if they could blow away in a stiff breeze. He had never seen the mate so intent before when he wasn't thinking of his beautiful pet's safety. "And painful for you too, my Garren."

Garren nodded. "Yes, but I will not separate him from Fox long."

"Effective," Akael commented dryly.

"I cannot let you punish him physically, Akael. The idea of another hurting him, even you, sickens me."

Akael patted Garren's shoulder. "I understand. But punished he must be, Garren."

"And he will be, as I have said."

"And how will you stand his mental pain? He is your mate. You will be better served by correcting him in the way you and your father were corrected. If you do not wish me to administer this punishment than of course I will not. But, you must."

Garren looked to his beautiful mate who was deep in conversation with two humans. "He has so much pride, Akael. It is terrible for him to be overpowered. I have punished him properly before. He just gets angry."

"But, he will learn, Garren. He will learn to avoid it."

"I do not think so, Akael. My Alex is nothing if not stubborn."

Akael snorted, "Yes, this I have noticed."

Garren chuckled and slapped Akael on the shoulder. "Oh, my friend, I know you have. And you have my sympathy."

Akael sighed deeply.

"You will tell Josia and Emil that they are not to touch Alex. Does there become a need to restrain him, you will be the one to do it."

Akael was surprised by the request and it showed on his face. "They would die before harming him, Garren. Surely you do not question that!"

Garren shook his head. "No, I do not. I trust them implicitly, but I prefer that Alex not be touched."

"They will think you don't have full confidence."

"Then you tell them what you like, Akael. I do not savor the thought of anyone touching my mate. Even you." With that the conversation was over and Garren left Akael standing there alone.

A slow smile came over Akael's face. His young Garren was too smitten by half. Emil and Josia would have to understand. Of course, he thought, his smile fading into exasperation, which meant he would be dealing with the spitting and scratching more often than the other two would. He thought they would be relieved when they understood it in those terms. And he knew that they would be glad for their Garren that he had found a mate, even if he were a short-lived human.

Alex sensed Garren approaching and covered the woman's hand. "Enough. I understand what I have to do. Talk no more of this and stay the hell away from Skinner. He'll know what you are if you get too close. He's distracted right now, but you can bet he won't be *that* distracted.

The two nodded and instantly their expressions went from intent to blank as Alex stood to intercept Garren. He stepped away from the two distracting Garren who was staring at the two considerably.

"Garren, I need to talk to you," he said briskly. He pulled at Garren's arm insistently.

Garren resisted and Alex was unable to move him an inch. "Who are these humans you speak to? I would be assured that they have no doubts that you are off-limits."

Alex sighed. "All right. Never mind. I'll go talk to Skinner. You talk to these two." He hated the way he had been reduced to manipulating like some child, but he was instantly rewarded by his tactics. Garren moved away from the two agents that Spender had sent. Alex didn't care who sent them, they represented a solid chance for him and Fox to escape. Spender had resources that could get them miles away from Skinner and Garren both. With the help of the medallions, he was gambling that the two of them would be unable to find them. That Spender had an ulterior motive was undoubted, but he wasn't Garren, Skinner or even Murdoch.

Alex would use him and then dump him. And then he and Fox would be free. It was intoxicating. He had felt just hours ago as if he weren't even himself anymore. Had said it. 'I'm not even me.' And how could he be himself like this? Owned. Seeing Fox only when Garren saw fit. It was more than just escape now. Escape to me, he thought. I need to escape to *me.*

There was one problem.

Skinner.

He would read the information from Alex easily. The plan would be shut down before it even began. And so he had to do two things, and he had to do the first immediately. Get away from Skinner and Fox. For if he told Fox, and how could he not tell Fox everything when he stared into those forest eyes, Skinner, who would never let Fox stray long from his side, would read it from Fox as easily as he would from Alex himself. The second thing mirrored the first in absolute importance. He had to make sure that Skinner did not move them to San Francisco via air as had been Skinner's intent for this last leg of the journey.

Spender's agents had been quite specific. There would be a military helicopter, much like the one that had come down in Fort Bragg, on the southern side of the Russian River. The woman was quite specific about that. Though it made sense to a certain extent, as the wolves would not be able to cross the river at that spot. It had been described as very wide and far from any bridge. Alex had to wonder why the helicopter could not land closer to their present position. The firepower those helicopters could bring to bear could hold off any wolf for the few moments it would take to get him and Fox out of there.

But they had been insistent. It had to be on the southern side. It had to be at specific coordinates.

Fine. If that was the game plan, he was ready to play.

So the second and first portion involved him convincing Garren to convince Skinner to travel by land, but quickly. And to keep him away from Skinner.

"What is it, Cat? Are you upset?" Garren bent to smell Alex close up, scenting excitement and nervousness, but no real upset. "What is it?" He pulled Alex to him and engulfed him in an incredibly strong embrace, instinctively trying to show his mate that he was fully capable of protecting him and taking care of any problem. He stroked Alex's back. "Tell me."

Alex gritted his teeth even as he leaned into the embrace. Garren did smell nice, and his body was so wonderfully hard. Spore, he reminded himself. You don't really want to be held by him. He wanted more than anything to be with Fox, no matter how nice it was to be so—so appreciated by this powerful creature. So thinking, he turned his gaze up into the stunning eyes and said, "I want to ask you to do something for me."

Garren stiffened. What would his mate ask? He wanted naturally to do what his mate requested, but he would not release him. "Yes," he asked guardedly.

"I want to see if you can convince Skinner not to fly us to San Francisco. I want to go by land. Quickly, sure, but I want to go by land."

Garren tilted his head to the side in curiosity. "Why, Cat?"

Alex frowned. "I don't want to be in some plane with him. Can you understand that?" It was lame even to him, but he relied on another thing to compound his advantage. Using what he knew of Garren, he let his very real desire to stay away from Skinner show and he let his gaze fall to the ground as if he were embarrassed about his fear.

Garren growled softly at his mate's upset and quickly moved to soothe him "We will travel by land, no matter what the ascendant decides."

Alex jerked and his eyes locked with Garren's again. "I don't want him to go off with Fox! No, we *all* go together. If you can't get him to agree then I'll fly."

Garren gritted his teeth in anger at the very idea that Skinner might deny this request. "We go together on land, Alex. I promise that. Do you feel better now?" He bent and lightly nipped at Alex's nose, nuzzling him playfully. "You can go and rest with Fox if you like, Alex. I know you need him. I want you to be happy, Cat."

Alex was startled by the earnestness in Garren's voice and for a moment, he was completely unsure of his wisdom in leaving him. He shook off that notion quickly. He and Fox would be torn apart by this situation. He knew it.

"You have my permission to make love to your pet if you like. Though he is the *only* one you can share yourself with. That is not negotiable, mate. I am being very generous in this." Garren nodded to emphasize his seriousness. There was no real reason that a mate could not make love to another as long as the dominant partner agreed to it. Fox was not a threat really. He was too beautiful by far not to let his mate enjoy taking him. One day he would demand to be part of it, but first he would have to deal with Skinner on that issue.

"He is not my pet, as I have said more than once I think, Garren," Alex hissed. "And he is the *only* one I want to *share* myself with," he finished pointedly.

Garren grinned. The fire was dazzling in Alex's eyes.

"But, I want to go now. Fox is sleeping—I need to be away for the night. I need to think. It's too hard—I can't be with him right now." His honesty helped him, for Garren would have smelled a lie, he knew.

Garren nodded and kissed Alex's lips, licking at the softness there. "Wait here, Cat, I will discuss things with Skinner."

"I'll wait over there," Alex replied, pointing to a copse of trees about thirty yards from the camp.

Garren shook his head, his cat always had to have some control of every situation, even down to where he would stand. Of course his mother had been much more obedient—when she wanted to be. For a wolf mate, his mother had been surprisingly independent. But Alex was human and therefore he was expected to be a bit less apt to be respectful to him as Garren of the pack. He watched as Alex, not waiting for his agreement, walked to where he had decided he would wait. Akael and Josia and Emil all followed him.

He approached Skinner just as Skinner returned to the camp. The ascendant smelled of the opening, that lingering power source from which all ascendants could draw. He knew what the witches had done as soon as he heard what ailed the prince. Lust was a powerful tool. What Skinner had done for Fox had drained him greatly. Witches could craft impossible enchantment and only a powerful ascendant could cleanse it. How stupid of Murdoch to think Skinner would not be able to combat such a thing.

Murdoch seemed to have lost all perspective. It was clear to him that Murdoch was doomed to serious errors when he had questioned his right to his proclaimed mate. But this was ridiculous. Perhaps he was desperate to have his prince back and had gambled that the witches would make Fox want him so that he would have called to Murdoch. It would have worked of course if Skinner hadn't acted quickly. Wouldn't Murdoch think that Skinner would?

He shook his head. Murdoch was not his concern now.

He made his mate's desires known and though Skinner seemed confused by the request he agreed to everything without Garren having to growl or threaten once to get his mate's way. When Skinner opened the tent to go in with Fox, Garren was hit again by that succulent scent. That incredible, sweet scent that made him think of—need sex. So changed that no creature could resist that allure for long.

Yes, he would soon taste that sweetness for himself, with his mate appreciating it with him. He turned with some reluctance away from the tent until he spied his mate and went eagerly to his side.

The group was assembling now to leave. Sometime in the night, Skinner had collected additional vehicles for the extra survivors. Mulder himself had gathered all his belongings, taking great care to keep the two medallions at the top of his duffel bag. He looked around in the dark morning for some sign of Alex, but could not find him.

He tried not to let it hurt him, but it did. Alex was not only absent this morning when they were preparing to depart, but he had not come to the tent at any time since Skinner had come to their side.

Skinner had come to him and he blushed hotly in memory.

He had woken sometime in the stillness of the night, hearing a heartbeat under his cheek. At first, he thought it was Alex over whom he was draped so intimately, but the soft hair on the chest under him alerted him that it was not Alex. Skinner stroked his face softly.

"It's okay, baby, you're all right. Sleep."

Fox lifted his head and though he couldn't make out Skinner's features in the darkness, he knew exactly how Skinner would look, relaxed and maybe sleepy. Strong features and a seriousness in that handsome face that were so much a part of the man. Solid.

"Where's Alex?" he asked.

"With Garren," Skinner responded honestly.

"Oh."

"We will be leaving together tomorrow. Early. Garren has asked that we go by land. Alex didn't want to fly. I know I told him that we would go slowly, but I thought he would want—who knows what I thought," he admitted. "I can't very well expect Alex to trust I won't try to keep the two of you apart."

Fox said nothing, but lay his head back down on the warm, furry chest. His mind was starting to think of Alex's possible reasons, but he stopped those thoughts immediately. Skinner would know. Now regrets distracted him, but that wouldn't guarantee that he would stay distracted while Fox plotted.

"We just want to be together," he whispered and let the thought of the short time he had had with Alex flood through him for Skinner to see.

Skinner shifted so that Fox lay beneath him. "You will be, Fox. I swear this to you right now. You will be. I know that Garren wants that too."

"Oh, well, now I feel so much better," Fox said bitterly.

"I'll make you feel better, baby," Skinner husked in a voice gone heavy with desire.

Fox shivered now with the memory of what Skinner had done. There had been no time to protest, no time to do anything but melt into Skinner with sudden, heavy desire of his own. Skinner's lips had drawn at his own, softly yet with such demand that he grew rigid with anticipation. Knowing what Skinner would do to him, wanting it.

Skinner tugged at Mulder's shirt, ripping it away easily and impatiently. He bent his lips to one, bruised, stitched nipple and licked softly.

The pain went straight to Mulder's pulsating cock and stung there on his hot tip. Every lick of Skinner's tongue on his nipple made the tip of his cock feel like it was being thumbed and he tossed his head in pleasureful pain. The other nipple was bathed and his legs spread eagerly. His heart ached for Alex, but his body was more than happy to stretch out and be loved by Skinner. He cried out when Skinner's tongue moved lower, licking between his pectorals and then back to one nipple at a time, putting more pressure on the sensitive flesh.

He spread his legs further apart and wanted to be free of his jeans. Without pausing, Skinner stroked the jeans away. Dimly Mulder wondered at that, how the fabric seemed to just slide off his body, as easily as a silken sheet laid over him, but that rational thought had no place in this time, this time of sensation. The cool air felt wonderful and painful to his weeping cock. The stroke of Skinner's tongue growing lower and yet every time returning to his nipples to torture pleasure out of them, and his cock jerked visibly in torment.

Skinner was making hungry sounds deep in his throat, sounds echoed lushly by Mulder's cries of helpless passion.

"You taste so sweet, Fox. My Fox."

"Walter! Wal-ter," Fox panted, his mouth open and gasping. The touch of Skinner's hands skimmed down Fox's thighs even as his tongue moved down to his belly, lapping there at Fox's belly button. Skinner's strong hands kneaded the long muscles in Fox's thighs, rubbing ever upward until both his hand and his tongue were rivals in slow teases. Moving too slowly toward Fox's wet erection. Swirling or grasping inches from its tortured hardness.

"Please. Pl-please touch me," he whispered in a ragged voice. He arched his hips trying to force Walter's tongue to the tip of his cock. He circled his hips trying to force Walter's hands to his cock. Nothing worked, Skinner was toying with him at his own leisure. With a start, Mulder realized that Skinner's hand were emitting some low level shock, lightly thrumming through his body at every caress of Skinner's fingers. And his tongue as well. Somehow Skinner was conducting small currents of electricity right into Fox's skin.

He twitched with it and the pleasure began to build. He realized too that Skinner was allowing him to feel the electricity slowly as he made his way on his seductive course to Fox's cock. The knowledge that Skinner was going to touch him there—that way—made Mulder heave up in fear. What would that feel like? God he didn't want to know.

But he did! He did want to know. It was like his skin was alive under Skinner's tongue and fingers. "Oh, no—no, Walter—please—not there," he gasped even as his hips began their arching and circling once more. "Not there—not like this," he begged as Skinner chuckled against the sensitive skin over his hip.

"Yes, my Fox, there—like this—until you scream my name," Walter promised. He reveled in the taste of Fox, his smell and his cries. His struggles to be touched a physical dichotomy to his frantic words. He let out more of his energy, let it envelop Fox with its sweet reverberation. He glanced up once into Fox's face, seeing passion personified. Fox. So utterly shattered by passion, his lips parted with ragged pleas and hard breaths.

Beautiful.

And then he touched the erection that swayed, wet and hungry before him, took it in his hands at the base and held tight, letting more of his energy purge into the hard flesh eager in his hands. He dabbed at the silvery wetness at the tip, gasping with hunger for it. Fox screamed and his hips lifted off the padding of his sleeping bag, the muscles in his thighs corded with tension.

"Feel that?" Skinner asked huskily. "Now this." He slid his lips around the tip, tasting the honey pooling there. Fox's screams made him so hard. The way Fox was trying to pull away and drive forward all at once as if the pleasure were too intense to stand and yet too addictive to withdraw. He slid one hand down deep into the crevice between Fox's buttocks and he heard Fox mumbling, begging, knew Fox knew what he intended. He slid one finger, wet from Fox's own precum, inside Fox's tight body. He pushed until his finger rested over Fox's prostate and he began to rub, all the while creating an arc between his mouth and his finger.

It was as if a thousand orgasms were tearing through him. Fox knew he wouldn't survive this pleasure. He would simply tear apart, rent irrevocably by the onslaught. He could hear his screams as if from a distance, as if made by some other man losing his mind, but could only feel, could only see his body caught in some pinkish glow and see Skinner sucking on him. His legs parted and pounded on the ground and his arms were thrown over his head, moving restlessly as he came apart.

Fox's screams and the taste of him, the feel of him became too much for Skinner and as Mulder's orgasms filled his mouth he was already freeing his own, aching erection. Fox's body was spasming with the residuals of pleasure and he was like a kitten as Skinner slid his thighs up and entered him in one, smooth thrust. He took those wet lips, those soft and lush wet lips with his own and fed there as he began to pump into Fox's limp and shuddering body. He let both of them become enveloped once more with energy and as he moved the hum of it vibrated their bodies, every inch.

Mulder didn't know who he was, or where. He knew only that he couldn't breath without feeling enormous pleasure. That he was moving his hips up to Walter and that they were both illuminated by pink light. There was a humming around them as Skinner's moans grew. He tried to thrust back into the wonderful motion Skinner had begun but the intensity was too much and all he could do was feel it. And then there was nothing, nothing but that feeling of coming utterly undone. He cried out Walter's name over and over and then there was simply darkness.

And when he had woken, Walter was standing over him in the predawn light of the camp.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Fox, but we have to leave soon," Skinner said softly, gently. His voice filled with tenderness. "I thought you might want to eat something before we left."

Fox sat up and moaned at the movement.

Skinner kneeled beside him and with a small frown of concern asked," Are you all right? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Mulder shook his head, "No, just sensitive." He looked into Walter's face and felt a blush heat his cheeks. He looked down quickly to hide that stain. He had made it through years without blushing. What was happening to him? "What did you do to me? What was—that?"

"Liked it huh?" Skinner teased.

Mulder nodded, but said nothing.

"I learn as I go, Fox," he chuckled. "One thing I do know is that I am getting stronger."

"God help me then," Fox murmured. He really couldn't take much more of—whatever it was Skinner had done. But, God, had it felt wonderful!

Skinner chuckled and left him to gather his things.

And now, waiting for everyone to load into the several SUVs, Mulder had the horrid certainly that Alex must have heard his lunatic screams of hours gone by. What had he thought? How had he felt? He looked around once more for Alex, but found no sign of him.

Skinner was walking towards him carrying a big, army-green duffel easily over his shoulder. Mulder swallowed guiltily as he had the sudden urge to go to Skinner and beg for just a little sample of what he had done to him. He grew hard at the very temptation of it. But he steeled himself from those thoughts and asked, "Where's Alex?"

"He's coming now, Fox. Don't worry."

Fox looked to where Skinner had gestured and indeed there was Alex, looking so adorably sleepy that Fox wanted to go to him and kiss the sleepy pout from his lips. He narrowed his eyes a bit suddenly when he realized there was no pout on Alex's lips, they were swollen slightly as if very well used. Garren winked at Mulder when their eyes met and Mulder drew up tight, resorting to an angry glare that seemed to amuse the big wolf to no end. Before Garren could stuff Alex into the nearest Ford Explorer, Alex looked to Fox and nodded.

There had been some message in that look, but Fox was too caught up in knowing that Alex no doubt had not heard his screams as he had been making his own. The image was torturous. Alex screaming for someone else. And he knew it was unfair. But he knew something else. He couldn't control the feeling of hurt and jealousy. Even if he knew Alex was not to blame. Even if he knew that Alex felt the same way. Alex was his!

Garren was saying something to Skinner. He hadn't even been aware of Garren approaching, but now he stood just inches away. "Alex wants to show something to his pet—to Fox later. Before we reach San Francisco. Just north of the Russian River." Garren looked to Fox and his smile was entirely too knowing. "You had quite a night, little prince. I heard you from nearly a mile away."

Fox blanched and his mouth dropped open in shock.

Skinner chuckled at Fox's expression and to Fox's annoyance looked supremely pleased with himself.

"I do not know why he wants to stop there—some personal relevance he wants to share with Fox. But I ask that you stop there as he requests. I will let you know when we come to it. My pack and I will leave you then and find our own way across the river." He smiled then, looking like a very young man in the dawning day. "I trust you understand our reluctance to trust another to navigate us over a river. At least in this type of vehicle."

Skinner shrugged, annoyed at yet another delay, but unwilling to deny Alex anything. Not now. "The vehicles can be made to go high over the river. Perhaps they will not move as quickly as a plane would, but we can go high if you like."

Garren shook his head. "I do not yet trust you enough, Skinner."

The answer was blunt and honest. Skinner approved of it with a nod. "As you wish. Let's get going then. I want to make San Francisco before late morning."

Fox watched as Garren returned to the now revving Ford and heard all the others come to life. Not like they would have sounded and indeed sounding like no motor he had ever heard before. He flushed deep red when he realized what they sounded like. They sounded like the humming Skinner had played over his body, sounded like Skinner's energy. Skinner was chuckling again and Fox knew that the man had read those thoughts from him. He hurried to get in the Jeep Skinner pointed him to and they departed in a quiet caravan of metal.

The vehicles had stopped amid a forest so ancient and beautiful that it made even Mulder, who had been sullen with thoughts of Alex and Garren, smile with pleasure. The ancient redwood trees were so impervious to the passage of time, to the plight of mankind, to everything but reaching the sky, that they seemed godlike. The humans in the group were all scattered about in the abandoned parking lot of a resort that squatted on the banks of the Russian River.

Why had Alex wanted them to stop here, Fox wondered silently.

"Go and ask him," Skinner answered.

Mulder jumped a bit. "Stop reading my mind!" he demanded. Skinner just smiled in reply. Why had Alex wanted them to stop? Had he wanted a few moments alone?

"Fox, go ask him," Skinner repeated mildly. He bent to kiss Fox's lips and then walked to join Garren who was watching Alex walk down to the bank of the river.

To Fox, Garren and the other wolves seemed agitated. They paced in small circles and kept eyeing Alex as if they expected something horrible to swoop down upon him, though none followed him. He had gathered from Skinner that Alex had requested privacy for their talk.

Why? Why here? Fox mused. And then he knew. Alex was attempting here of all places to make a break for it. It was ridiculous! While the wolves might not be able to cross the river, Skinner could. And would! In an instance. He pursed his lips in irritation. What was he thinking? But there he stood, at the river's edge, looking across at some distant point. Plotting their abbreviated run no doubt, Fox thought.

But still, if only for a few moments, then he would go. He looked to see if Skinner were watching and hurriedly took out the two medallions, and stuffed them both in the pocket of the light, nylon jacket he wore.

He walked down slowly, careful to think of nothing but the water, the way it rolled gently by here at this spot, but roared just a few meters further downstream. There were undercurrents just east of where Alex stood, currents that would take the unwary swimmer right into the more angry water downstream. While the river wasn't as wide at this spot as other spots in its passage to the sea it narrowed considerably very quickly, which caused the more turbulent churning downstream.

"Alex. What are you doing?" he whispered as he came to his lover's side."

"Do you have them?" Alex hissed, not answering his question.

"Yes, but—what do you think—I mean how far do you think we'll get?"

"Do you trust me?" Alex asked.

Jade eyes looked into Fox's and Fox knew full well that he hadn't been the only one who had been angry the last few hours. Alex's eyes were burning with the same jealousy he felt and he knew then that Alex had heard him the same as Garren had. There was such anger there that his own paled in comparison. He lowered his eyes guiltily and nodded. "Of course I do."

"Do you still want to leave him?" Alex's voice had acid in it.

Fox's head jerked up and he looked confused and hurt. "Of course! How could you ask..."

"Then just do what I tell you to do and don't ask questions. Got it?"

Alex's tone brooked no argument and Fox nodded, uncertain.

"When I tell you to, jump in and swim. Swim like a motherfucker, Fox, and don't stop. No matter what."

"And then what..."

"Just do it!" Alex growled.

"Okay, Alex. I will," Fox whispered. Alex was losing it and he had no idea what to do but placate him. Swim like a motherfucker! That was his plan? Jesus! They were doomed!

"Now!" Alex barked and pushed him toward the water.

Fox fumbled with the medallions and put both around his neck to assure himself they wouldn't be lost and he was pushed again. "Dammit, Alex..." he complained before Alex shook him.

"Fuck, Fox! Move!" Alex hissed and then they were both running into the shallow water.

They swam quickly and every moment Fox expected to feel Skinner touch him, drag him back to the shore, but they were nearly half way across before he heard the roaring of the wolves.

"Jesus," Mulder gasped, "they're already after us."

"Stop talking and swim," Alex barked.

Fox had many a thing to say to his insane lover, but he put his whole heart into swimming and was pleased to see himself move away from Alex as his strokes took on a steady, remembered rhythm. There was a sound in the distance, coming fast toward them from the southern bank of the river. Fox slowed suddenly, unsure of what that sound represented. "Alex..."

"Swim, baby! Just fucking swim."

"But, it sounds like a helicopter," Fox breathed even as he sped up once more. They both felt the mud of the river bottom at the same time and he looked back to see Garren and the other old wolves racing east, toward the narrow portion of the river. "Oh God! Alex they're going to jump it."

Alex dragged himself and Fox out of the river and saw what Fox meant. Garren and the three old wolves were circling back, fully changed and running away from the river where it was wild and more narrow. But surely it was too wide to jump! Why had the agents insisted on this spot? There were so many other spots far wider. And then jumping wouldn't have even been an option. It was obvious that Garren was running away from the river to be able to have enough speed to jump it. He propelled Fox away from the water just as he saw the black shape of the helicopter over the tree line.

"No time to land," he screamed over the sudden roar of propellers. "They're gonna have cables. Baby, you have to grab hold tight! They'll pull us up! Jesus, don't let go!" He screamed.

Fox nodded, but he looked back across the river and saw one of the SUV'S racing toward the shore.

Skinner!

The helicopter was above them with such suddenness he almost missed the cable that Alex grabbed and held out to him.

"Put your foot in this hole, "Alex commanded him. He watched to be sure Fox had his foot in securely before he slid his own foot in and the helicopter screamed as it lifted them off the ground and dizzyingly into the air. "Hold on!"

"I'm holding on!" Fox yelled back. "Do you think I want to fall?" The sudden jerk of the cable upwards nearly jerked it out of his hands and he heard Alex cry out, but he held tight and raised his brow at Alex as if challenging him to say anything.

Garren saw the vehicle that had come to take his mate from him and he howled in rage and in fear of the river. It wasn't too wide to jump. But it was wider than any he had ever attempted before. Akael was running just in front of him and he took the long jump first, just as Alex and Fox disappeared into the belly of the beast and where flown out of sight. Akael reached the other side with inches only to spare and fell to his knees in the pain of such closeness to the river. He scrambled up the shore to wait out the pain and Garren reached the edge to leap.

Just as he was crouching with all the power in his legs he saw Murdoch appear before him. A thin vision of his old master, smiling mockingly at him. The suddenness of the vision threw him off and he stumbled in an effort not to collide with what he knew to be nothing but a projected image. But he was too close to the edge not to jump. Even as he made the leap he knew he wouldn't make it. He landed suddenly and horribly several feet from the shore and the pain ripped through him even as the water pulled him under. He could feel the ground beneath his claws and he tried to tear free of the water, the relentless, rushing, cleansing water. He felt then the pain of more of his pack as the young jumped in without thought trying to reach him. He felt their immediate deaths and wanted to howl for them. He sensed Josia and Emil's fear as they deliberately jumped into the river and their pain as they struggled to reach him. He cleared the water long enough to howl with agony and then he was pulled under again, dragged by the hated water, until for the first time in all his life all rational thought fled and there was just the pain.

Ruthless as a claw.

Water.

Running water.

Continued in Chapter 2