Feral Northern Shifters 2

Bram—“I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe there was a decent chance we can reach him. We just have to stabilize his human side. Ethan cannot shift and that means skin contact. After eight years, the human will crave it, but the cat in him won’t like it. It will only want to destroy.”
Bram didn’t respond. Doug was the pack’s alpha and only cat-shifter expert, and he didn’t like any kind of argument at the best of times. But Doug hadn’t seen Ethan in this compound long ago. A cougar trying to save an older she-wolf by sacrificing himself. Lila—Bram had decided never to forget her name— was dead, and Ethan’s sacrifice had been heartbreaking, and in vain.

Chapter Three
    Ethan woke weeping, human memories bearing down on him. Lila had lain beside him, her body shredded, and despite all his cat’s efforts to forget that day, he could not.
He turned, and yet could not turn his mind away.
Hands on him, large and warm, pulled him up to cradle him.
That nuzzle and a stranger’s comfort made Ethan sob even harder. He should have been embarrassed, but he was too weary for embarrassment. The arms did not clamp around him this time. Instead, hands soothed, stroking his face and his sides, making the weeping all the more painful. He found it hard to catch his breath.
“Ethan.”
Lila had named him Ethan. He never knew why. She’d suggested the name to his mother, and his mother had liked it.
“Ethan.” That voice sounded strained, even concerned. Why? Ethan should be suspicious, but the tears made him weak.
He turned his face towards the man, unable to resist the lure of human touch. Ethan had stayed cat for a reason. Cat didn’t need others and didn’t need to be held, but Ethan was stupid. He reached for his captor and wept. It didn’t stop. His body couldn’t contain the sorrow. The wolf murmured reassurances while Ethan’s body shook with crying.
“Something is wrong.” The urgent, low statement was not directed at him. “He’s going to exhaust himself if he continues like this.” There was a fierceness to the words, an anger. Ethan didn’t understand. Why weren’t his captors hurting him?
“Keep his back to you, Bram.” The alpha issued a warning Ethan didn’t comprehend, and a second set of hands descended on him, turning him away from the one who held him and, outnumbered, Ethan began to fight blindly.
A tight hold clamped down, immobilizing him, while his captor Bram growled, “Back off, Doug.”
“What did you say to me?” Blessedly the second man moved away from Ethan.
“Sorry.” Bram gasped, obviously in some kind of pain, his voice tense, his body tight as a wire even while his grip on Ethan remained gentle.
Ethan couldn’t follow what was happening except that the second wolf was touching Bram and no longer touching him.
“But, Doug,” Bram pleaded, “you’re making it worse for him.”
“Keep his back to you,” Doug repeated, voice flat.
“I will.”
The alpha stepped away. “I actually don’t want him ripping out your throat.”
Ethan was gasping for air, waiting for Doug to attack, waiting for them to slice him open. He’d forgotten he was waiting for that. How could he forget? Brace, brace. Why was he so weak ? He couldn’t think straight and he was going to pass out. Again.
As the world faded, someone buried his face in his hair—his long hair. “Ethan.” The voice sounded shaky, a little…desperate, a faint echo of his own terrible despair. “Shhh.”
    A claw, a wolf’s claw, slashed across his stomach. His intestines spilled out. The human in him was exhausted but the cat fought on, shifting to save its life, to save Ethan’s life, and when he came to, the werewolves were human and one held a knife.
    “Where should we cut him this time?” Gabriel lifted the blade so the sun’s rays reflected on it, and then he sliced downwards.
Ethan hit the floor and someone caught him immediately. A wolf, but his tormentor didn’t lay him open like they had in the past. Instead, the wolf enfolded him.
Blearily, Ethan recalled this embrace. He’d endured it before, enough that it was becoming unnervingly familiar—human chest to his human back, human legs holding his legs down, arms wrapped tight. This embrace didn’t slice him open. Or at least whichever wolf held him didn’t. It was all about restraint.
“Ethan.” Someone’s face lay against his neck—it was a wolf’s way to reassure him. The gesture shouldn’t have calmed him, but it