Trade In and Up Chapter 6

 

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Unedited Free Written Story

Adult Content. If under 18 leave the site.

M/M Content. Some BDSM may apply to the story at some point and time.

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Chapter 6

Wasn’t possible. Hadn’t seen it. Nope. Going insane. Finally. Knew years of running from Mr. Julian would drive me there. Last straw had been him killing John. There was no way in hell that a man could go from a wolf to a human.

“Here,” Special Agent Preston Clarkson went to take my arm, but I jerked it away from him.

“Don’t touch me.” Ever.

“Fine.” He held his hands up. “But please sit down before you fall over. You are paler than a white sheet.”

What did he expect? He’d just been a wolf? A wolf, damn it. Know he was a man. Man in the same clothes as before.

“I know this is a huge shock to you. More than most can take in.” Boy was he right there. Not taking it in. “But you are stronger than most or I would not have shown you. Yet.” Yet? What did that mean? He was always going to show me? Why? “I can’t explain why you are so special, not yet, but you will learn in time. First, we have to get you to safety. And we are not far enough away from Mr. Julian for that to be the case.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I turned and began to walk towards the road.

“You know he will catch up to you.”

He would, but what did it matter. I had nothing left to live for. John was gone. I had no home. It’d been taken years ago. My mom and dad was gone. John’s as well. No brothers or sisters. It was just me. No one would miss me. Or care that I was gone. Just easier if I give up the run and let Mr. Julian catch me and do as he wish with me. Sure better than whatever these . . . . where they people? Who knew. Whatever they are, had planned for me. Sure weren’t FBI Agents.

Warm hands touched my arm, making me jump a foot away and spin around.

Special Agent Preston Clarkson, if that was his name, stood there. “Just give me five minutes.”

“Why so you can lie to me again?”

“I have not lied to you. Not once.”

“You are no FBI Agent.”

“I am.”

No waver in his voice. Quick answer, but no sense of falseness there. He either believed he was, or he was. Damn it, which was it? Which do I believe? What would five minutes hurt?

“Fine. Not a minute more.”