A different take on the traditional M/M werewolf romance topic: less romantic, less traditional, more disturbing and with conniving wolves, vampires and submissive marines.

Comments or requests for more of Meta (& the Marines) can be emailed to Meta.JohnAR@gmail.com or check out www.amazon.com/author/johnar.

Depending on reception, I will post more chapters. 

And if any military boy wants to start a MetaPack, let me know ...

John A.R.

Meta & the Marines II

(Meta Origins)


His boss and his colleagues were bores. The girl who had started her internship the same day as him looked like a nerdy character in The Big Bang Theory; she wasn't uncute, but definitely incapable of putting on proper make-up and clinging to her thick glasses, which were more effective as contraception device than any condom or hormone pill. They hid her cute and shy blue eyes and made her face common. Add her whispering, high-pitched voice and the required bookkeeping outfit, and one got the perfect wallflower. He wondered whether Susan thought the same about him: the perfect male wallflower, but he didn't care. Susan went to a prestigious university in LA and had two more college years to go. Colt, who played with his newly bought deep blue tie looking over the mess of numbers this company had given them to analyze, was bored already.

"My God, this finance department should be locked up," his boss, Martin, said wiping the sleep out of his eyes. Martin was younger than he looked. He appeared like mid-thirties, but Colt knew he was barely older than Prime. But his thinning hair, which he desperately tried to cover up, and his super pale complexion, which didn't have the elegance of upper classes but a very unhealthy hue, made him highly unattractive. He had small shoulders and narrow hands like a girl. Nevertheless, Martin was nice and, Colt didn't believe it at first, married with two kids. His boss was anally retentive as one expected him to be in this job, even sorting the pencils on his desk according to length and lead hardness. Martin was equally diligent in explaining how this consulting and auditing company went about their business, from how to file their expenses properly (he double-checked exchange rates by day of travel), how to collect the necessary data (even those data their customers didn't think were necessary), how to arrive at the standard conclusions (each of which landed at `you need more help from us') and how to create pretty charts even half brain-dead CEOs and irresponsible marketing heads could understand. And he explained it again and again if needed. Not that Susan and Colt needed it; Martin actually seemed to be quite impressed with both of their performances and the fact they worked together smoothly and not against each other to secure a job after college. It had been going so well they'd been sent to this shipping company, which seemed to be days off bankruptcy, although business was doing so well. It was obvious money disappeared somewhere, and they had to figure out where to quickly.

Colt had never heard about this `E.E.U.S. Shipping Company,' which stood for `Eastern Europe United States,' trading mainly between North America and Russia. And looking at their books it seemed those practices were imported from Russia as well, as xenophobic that might have sounded.

"The booking of discounts is a mess, it'll take us a week to sort through this," Susan pushed aside a long string of old printing paper with its usual white light blue lined pattern.

"Agree, same with supplier contracts. They don't even have a contract with their biggest subcontractor. I have no clue what they check the invoices against. And there're payments to them with no corresponding invoices whatsoever." Colt scratched his head. This was so bad, that it couldn't be negligence, somebody wanted to make this mess; most likely to hide something really bad. "You think they're laundering money?" Colt asked Martin.

"Don't think so," Martin answered scratching his nose, which in contrast to his shoulders and hands was a bit too big for him. "If they wanted they would have better `pretend books.' This is so messy, that it invites scrutiny, the last thing money launderers want."

Colt nodded. "Makes sense."

"I have all these bills for empty transports. At least 20% of their ships travel back and forth between LA and Vladivostok without cargo. Not only in one direction which could make sense, but in both." Susan seemed to despair. All her sense of proper business conduct as taught to her in university bookkeeping classes, was insulted. "And they lose cargo on the way. There's a 150k German kitchen delivered to their warehouse in LA, and it doesn't reappear on any other shipping document." She seems torn between the annoyance about the sloppiness of the logistics and the appreciation of a 150k kitchen.

"I guess we have some long days in front of us," Colt said picking up a fresh can of Diet Coke. He offered some to Martin and Susan, but both of them declined, as they had been doing for the whole summer. Martin was a coffee addict, relying on getting the strong European kind, and Susan stayed with her herbal or fruit teas. By now Colt was used to the different kinds of intense tea scents; in the beginning he nearly became nauseous when she drank cherry or strawberry tea. It smelled as if one of his wolves was sick.

Wolves, he thought. He took his phone and quickly typed a "Hi" into their private chat room, and that he would be late today.

CE immediately responded with a big frowny, Prime wrote `growl' and Brian offered not without innuendo: "Can I beat someone up? We have some boxing gloves here."

"You are such a slut," CE answered.

"Why?" Brain asked pretending innocence.

"Do you think we don't know what you guys did in our gym?" CE asked.

"Ooops," Colt typed quickly.

"If I had known boxing gloves did that to you, Meta, I would have worn mine much earlier," CE teased.

"Not fair, guys. I have a boner in my suit pants."

"We can help," Sam offered adding a little devil icon.

"When do you expect to be done?"

"2300," he wrote military style to Prime.

"We'll pick you up. And you better keep your leaking dick in your pants," Prime threatening with a little twinkie smilie.

"No worries, you've seen Susan and Martin."

"I guess you're safe then," Brian agreed. "Let us know if you need some entertainment in between."

"What are you offering? Phone sex?" CE asked.

"Now who's dirty?"

Colt smiled and put his phone away.

"Good news?" Susan asked with a gentle smile.

"Just my friends, they're funny."

Susan nodded, not completely understanding what Colt was talking about, and returned to her printouts.

"I guess we can start putting some key numbers into our system, trying to correct theirs would take too much time and it might have been set up the wrong way anyway," Martin decided opening a company proprietary program; all their three laptops were hooked up to it via the cloud.

Over the next hours they keyed in all the information they had confirmation about, rebuilding the balance and P&L sheets of the company. By now they had forgotten that they'd been put into a windowless meeting room on the ground floor. The wallpaper was a repulsive light brown, reminding him of his disdain for wallpaper per se, the lights an unpleasant halogen type, the furniture old and from a time where only men worked in offices smoking themselves into cancer death.

The host company didn't even make efforts to provide drinks or snacks to them, so they brought their own; Martin diligently picking up all the receipts for croissants, Diet Coke and tea bags to expense them appropriately, charging their customer at the end.

At 6 in the evening, somebody knocked and an old guy in a badly tailored suit came in. "How are you guys doing?" he asked with a light accent that reminded Colt of his grandmother. Maybe he was Russian although his first name Jeroen sounded more Dutch.

"Fine, thanks," answered Martin for them not completely truthfully. But it seemed he actually enjoyed that mess. Not only could he clean it up utilizing all his professional skills, but he could also bill extra overtime hours to the account, giving him a nice bonus and his company a solid profit. Properly run companies would be his firm's death.

"We're gone now. I told the security guys that you're still here. They'll let you out when you're done."

"Of course, thank you."

"Night," the Finance Director said with an undecipherable smile, which made Colt a bit nervous.

"Have you guys seen anywhere this contract with that `Moscow Exports' freight forwarder?" Martin asked fully focused on his task again.

Both of them declined. "But I found a note somewhere that it was filed with legal. Let me see whether they're still in the office."


Colt left their little `cage' and took the elevator to the third floor. Walking through the long hallway he looked at one door sign after another. `Legal Dept.' it said finally.

He knocked. No response.

He knocked again and tried the door.

It opened. "Sorry, I'm from your consultant. Anyone here?" he asked loud.

Silence. The three tables were already deserted and nearly organized -- in contrast to the company's books. On one of them there were a bunch of open personnel files with pictures. He glanced over the names and pictures, but quickly realized he wouldn't find what he was looking for on this desk -- only HR files on Juri, Petrov and Sascha written in Cyrillic.

He quickly spotted a filing cabinet, saying to himself `I guess I could come tomorrow again, but let's test our luck.' And when he pulled at the filing cabinet, it opened - against all corporate security policies. He was a bit surprised it was quite organized. And after two minutes he found all the files he needed on this Moscow company. He pushed the file drawer back in, got some oil on his finger, wiped it off with a tissue he found on the desks with the personal files.

"Can I help you?"

Colt jerked, nearly blushing having been caught looking into the personnel files. One of the contracts fell to the floor.

He turned around.

A security guy stood in the door and looked at him with caution.

"Did you scare the shit out of me," Colt answered looking at the tall, slim guy with a correct haircut and the hint of tattoos crawling above the collar of the white shirt. He had actually quite elegant features with a straight nose and a strong chin, making him look like an Italian aristocrat. His eyes were cautiously mustering Colt.

"Sorry, I'm Colt Parker, working for you as consultant; we're downstairs and needed some more information ..."

The security guy nodded, talking his walkie-talkie. "Boss? I have here a Parker, who says he is from some consultant."

The voice on the other end croaked, and Colt had no clue how the security could understand a thing."

"Shall I bring him down?"

"Okay. Understood." The security guy showed Colt the way out of the office, not allowing any disagreement.

When Colt passed him he noticed that the guy used too much cologne. "Thanks, ..."

"Antonio," the guy answered.

"Thanks, Antonio. Will you be here the whole night?"

"Yes, my shift is from 6 to 6."

"Must be hard to work every night," Colt tried to make conversation while they waited for the elevator.

"I'm used to it. Always been a night person."

"That is convenient," he stepped into the elevator and Antonio followed him closely.

His uniform didn't fit very well. He wore black New Balance sneakers and not boots, his pants were of some synthetic material and his jacket was a bit too short for a tall man like him. If it hadn't been for his height and watchful eyes, he had looked more like the imitation of a security guard than an actual one.

"When will you guys leave?"

"Around 1100, I guess I'll see you then."

"You bet," Antonio said accompanying him back to the meeting room where his colleagues were stuck.

When Colt entered, he said: "Thanks, Antonio, see you later."

The security guy turned around and started to talk with his boss again. "Done, boss."

"Got the contract, but got caught by this guy, hope we're not in trouble."

"Na," Martin answered. "They have such a mess here, they won't even notice."

Two hours later they ordered pizza, with Martin picking it up from the main entrance. "Somehow those security guys are bit weird," he said.

"Why do you say that?" Colt wanted to know.

"Not sure, just feel creepy."

"I guess that's their job," Susan said equally unimpressed.

"Okay. Let's take a break."

Colt took some slices of the mushroom pineapple pizza and moved to the other end of the table. He was amused the only time he got any food without beef was when he was at work. At home, mushrooms and pineapple wouldn't qualify as proper food, as they caused indigestion with wolf shifters.

"So what are you up to, boys?" he typed into his phone.

"Doing laundry," Brian answered immediately. Seemed that task made him the first to respond to distraction.

"I thought that was Sam's job?" Colt asked.

"In class, marketing intro," the latest pack member reported dutifully.

"Then you better not use your phone, pup!" Prime answered quickly.

"Aye, aye, Sir," Sam answered, knowing that he would be in trouble when he got home.

"You are such a kill-joy," Brian said.

"And CE?"

"He's also still in his office. Seems they had a dead sailor today in LA."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Some old murder," Prime explained.

"Well, I'm sure he'll be fine."

"By the way, what do you think about this?" Prime asked sending them a picture of a nice garden with palm trees and swimming pool.

"Where's that?"

"A buddy of mine has that house in Palm Springs. Well, his parents have it but they're based in Bombay or Islamabad or wherever, so he offered me to stay there for fall break."

"Isn't that the place where all old gays play golf?" Brian asked.

"Afraid of them?" Colt asked.

"Nope. But you might be, they will be all over us."

"I won't let you out of the house then," Colt responded threatening, licking the grease off his finger, he still could taste a bit of the oil from the filing cabinet.

"Now that is getting really freaky. Tattoos, chains, CB's ... and now you want to lock us up 24/7?" Brian asked. Colt just could imagine how much joy the Beta had typing this.

"Alternatively, I could put you in this," Colt suggested sending a picture of an invisible being in a burqa.

"I knew you had clothing fetish but this?"

"Can we stay with uniform and boots?" Prime begged.

"If you insist," Colt smiled.

"So what shall I tell him?"

"Would love to go," Colt said. "But is there space for you to run?"

"Enough, it's not Montana, but it shall be fine."

"And what do we do with the horny old men?" Brian asked.

"We'll sacrifice you and we'll have our peace," Prime teased the Beta.

"Oh thanks."

"I'm actually more worried about Colt," Prime continued.

"Why is that? Not sure that old gay men prefer me over you hunks," he responded.

"29 Palms isn't too far away. Biggest base for the marines."


"Knowing you, you will be hard 24/7," Prime teased the Meta.

"Well, don't get uniform at home ..."

"If that's what it takes ...," Brian interrupted.

"You signing up?" Colt chuckled.

"No, you didn't say anything about that ..."

"Anyway, we need to keep Colt away from the young marines, otherwise he chains half of them and we get problems with the Pentagon."

"Somebody needs to build this pack," Colt defended himself, washing away the pizza taste with Diet Coke.

"But we could need some more brain ..."

"What are you implying, Brian?" Prime asked, feeling hurt in his marine honor.

"Nothing, Alpha. I will do as you order," Brian played submissive with a smirk.

"Okay, I'll confirm then."

Colt put the phone away with the usual smile he had when he talked with his boys during a long working day when it buzzed again.

"Totally forgot, Colt. 3 letters arrived today."

"Understand. See you later, boys. Get ready for sleeping puppy style."


It was getting close to 11 o clock, and they noticed how they got tired. They lost their train of thoughts, keyed in wrong numbers, forgot where they'd put their notes and needed more and more time to come to the next conclusion.

"I guess, it would be better if we stopped now," Martin finally said.

"Thanks, I'm tired like hell," Susan added rubbing her eyes under glasses.

"Can we see anything on our reworked numbers?" Colt asked not wanting to go before having a sense of what was going on.

"Not really," Martin answered. "We have gaps on the income and expense side."

"Maybe they have a business division for which we don't have the data yet," Colt suggested.

"We shall see tomorrow. Let's go. I mean I'm already sentenced to sleeping on the sofa at home this week, but I would like to get back to my wife's bed on the weekend," Martin shared.

Colt nodded with understanding, although he didn't understand. Seemed that Martin's wife used sex to control her husband. He knew that was not an uncommon phenomenon amongst straight people, but it was purely intellectual knowledge. `You're such a big mouth,' Colt said to himself. `Until a year ago you only had sex in sleazy backrooms of bars. Just because you're fucking four hunks nowadays whenever, however, and wherever you want, you don't have to start looking down on straight men.'

And although he was sure he would just cuddle with his pack today, it felt so good that he could have sex with any of his men this evening, or with all of them. Although the last thought was a bit disturbing. He didn't have any concern morally, but he thought he might die of overstimulation if four hunky men `worked' on him. But maybe he should try it one day. No, not on the priority list. He'd enjoyed Prime and Sam together. And he didn't feel that any other combination was good right now. For a second he was shocked about his thoughts. `I'm mentally arranging threesomes.' What a year had done to him.

He shut down his laptop, put all his papers together, arranging them orderly next to all the other papers his team had sorted through, grabbed his suit jacket and was ready to go.

When they left their `cage,' they couldn't find the switch for the lights, and they didn't turn on automatically either. It wasn't really dark, but it was bit odd to walk through an office in semidarkness.

They came to the glass door separating the hallway from the main entrance hall. It didn't open. They pushed and pulled, but it didn't move, it was locked.

They could see one of the security guys sitting in his cabin watching TV, so they hammered against the door, but he didn't notice them following some football game. They tried to make even more noise.

Finally the security guy looked up, directly at them. His face didn't show any reaction, but he didn't get up either, he just returned to watching his game, as if he had never noticed them.

"What the hell?" Martin asked.

And then it hit Colt.

He smelled oil.

Old oil.

Some metal.

Same smell he had smelled upstairs while looking for the contract in the filing cabinet. He'd thought the oil had come from the furniture.


He swallowed, trembled while looking for his phone.

"Please work," he begged silently.

"I call the Finance Director," Martin said annoyed.

`Not going to help us,' Colt thought, typing quickly. "RED. Boys, I have a problem. Locked in. Vampires on the way."

"Where?" Prime asked within a second. Colt felt Prime had sensed he was in trouble.

Colt quickly typed the address.

"On my way, Brian and Sam are with me."

One minute later. "THIS IS NOT THE ADDRESS OF YOUR OFFICE!" Prime typed. Colt knew that Brian was driving.

"No, at customer," he typed looking around. He didn't see the vampires yet. He smelled them, at least three. He assumed the guy in the security booth outside was one of them. He didn't make any move to attack them, but there were still two others. And they could easily kill Martin, Susan and him.

He knew why they might want to get him, but Martin? And Susan? Were they just collateral damage or was Susan still a virgin? He guessed he would find out later.

"He doesn't pick up his phone," Martin said annoyed. "And this idiot is ignoring us," referring to the vampire security guy outside. "Maybe I should call the police?"

"Better not, mortal," a hollow voice said. Antonio.

Colt took a deep breath thinking about options. He didn't have his dagger with him. He didn't think he would need it in his line of work. Obviously he'd thought wrongly.

"Oh, good that you are here. Could you please open the door? We would love to go home," Susan said unaware of the danger they were in.

"My lady won't go home today," Antonio said.

"Excuse us?" Martin was outraged. "Open the door now, otherwise I call the police."

Martin started type 911 on his phone, when Antonio started to levitate to approach them swiftly.

"What the heck?" the accountant said forgetting to conclude the call.

Antonio, the vampire, hit the phone with his hand so it fell to the floor cracking its screen.

"What are you doing?" Martin shouted, starting to panic.

"Not interested in you, mortal," Antonio dismissed him.

"Oh good you're here, Jeroen, was trying to call you. This crazy guy broke my phone," Martin said to the Finance Director, who approached them behind Antonio.

"Oh, Martin, just shut the fuck up," Jeroen dismissed the thin accountant.

"Sorry?" It was obvious that Martin was losing it. Nothing made sense for him. "We just want to go home."

"Not happening. We have two delicious prizes here tonight," Jeroen said, licking his mouth.

Colt sighed. So Susan was a virgin. And his head meant money. He guessed it was like a double jackpot lottery win for the security vampires.

"Two prizes?"

"Susan, you smell so deliciously sweet," Jeroen ignored Martin, starting to levitate. His fangs grew, his skin became paler, his eyes golden, his nails got longer.

"Please, let us go," Susan begged, crying tears.

"So innocent, so sweet, so frightened," Jeroen started to touch Susan's hair, smelling it, inhaling it, getting high on the scent.

"Don't do anything, I'm saving myself ..."

Jeroen laughed. "Saving yourself for me ..."

"Leave her alone," Martin tried to be courageous, attempting to get in between Susan and Jeroen. But the Russian vampire slapped him with his right hand like an annoying mosquito; which was still strong enough for Martin to `fly' three meters through the air hitting the wall.

Susan's crying intensified. "Please." Jeroen licked her face.

Antonio had never left Colt out of his sight. It was obvious Jeroen would bite the virgin and Antonio would kill the nerd with the money on his head.

He thought of running but he was pretty sure they had closed off all the exits. His only chance was delaying the situation so long that his wolves would be here in time. He needed to stall them.

"So Jeroen, out of which orifice did you crawl?"

The vampire reluctantly let go of the long brown hair of the girl and looked at the scrawny boy with that atrocious beard they called goatee nowadays. "Don't speak to me like that."

"How else should I speak to a vampire?" Colt asked.

"Vampire? Colt, what are you thinking?" Martin chastised him still weak from the hit against the wall.

"He's right, mortal."


"Oh shut the fuck up you embarrassment of your mother," Antonio said to Martin, hitting him with his boot, so Martin jerked into a fetus position to protect himself.

"So you know about us?"

Colt snickered. "About half-deads? Not a lot. You crawl out of cemeteries somewhere in the world, having been underground for hundreds of years. You feed on the blood of virgin girls ..."

Susan interrupted him with a heart-breaking scream.

"You stink of oil and metal. And you're the favorite prey of wolf shifters."

Jeroen laughed. He was entertained. "Wolves?"

"Well, I'm sure you know them anyway. So let's talk about those virgins."

"Why should we? I'll feed on her. And Antonio will kill you," Jeroen said bored.

"I would have guessed so. But I was thinking more of your `side business.'"

"Side business?" Jeroen parroted while sniffing Susan at her neck, behind her ears and at the crook of her arm, everywhere the blood was close to the skin.

"You're trafficking people to the States. -- That's your real business, right?"

"He's smart," Antonio said quite impressed.

"Thanks, vampire. We thought you had another division we couldn't find data for. And we were right, you have another division. Just a pity it's illegal and not really profitable."

"Oh, it's profitable," Jeroen insisted.

"I know, but not primarily in US Dollar terms, right?" Colt concluded. How long would it take for his wolves to be here? Could he keep those vampires intrigued for so long? `Prime,' he sighed, `I need your golden wolf.' He continued to play for time: "You promise girls a better life in America. I'm sure hundreds, maybe thousands of Russian girls would like that. And when they're on your ships, you separate the virgins from the others. The others get to the U.S. and you get the fee for that. That's the money you make; good money but not your motivation. Right, Jeroen?"

"You tell me, smart ass," Jeroen answered. "Antonio, it's time he shuts his mouth."

The tall vampire came closer, blocking the way for Colt.

"And the virgins you feed on when they come to the U.S. How convenient, a constant stream of scared food, delivered directly to your offices," Colt explained.

"Human trafficking?" Martin asked.

"No, food delivery," Jeroen joked. "Antonio, do it!"

The tall vampire took two big steps and his right hand reached for Colt's shoulder.

"Please, Prime," Colt sighed, shifting to the side to escape the vampire.

Antonio smiled, it seemed he cherished a bit of a fight. He closed in further, another attempt to grab his shoulders. Colt's foot hit the vampire's knee. A surprised Antonio bent down, allowing Colt to hit him into his face with his fist.

He knew he wouldn't win this fight, only a dagger or a wolf could do that, but he could gain time. And time was all he needed. Antonio was still surprised at the resistance by this scrawny human. He got annoyed, made a decisive step forward, when Colt got hold of his pen and shoved into Antonio's right eye.

Susan screamed, Antonio tumbled. "Fucking hell!"

Jeroen was caught off guard: "Who are you, you bastard?" He let go of Susan and approached Colt instead.

Colt screamed: "Susan, run, run. Lock yourself in!"

And Susan was quick enough to take her only chance and ran.

Jeroen focused his angry dark golden eyes on this scrawny nerd, who just made a nice meal and some nice cash a bit difficult. Annoyingly difficult.

In the background, Antonio had dragged out the pen from his eye, showing a bloody hole in his face. "I'm going to kill this bastard," he cursed.

"No, you had your chance. I'll do that now. Just make sure that thin-haired creature over there doesn't move."

"Leave him alone," Martin whined trying to speak for Colt as his boss.

"Didn't we tell you to shut up?" Antonio repeated and kicked that man into his sides.

"So, Parker, I guess it's time to say good-bye," Jeroen smiled at him. Both of his hands landed on Colt's shoulders.

Colt wanted to evade his grip, but Jeroen was faster. He wanted to kick again, but Jeroen pushed him against the wall and started to squeeze his shoulders.

Foul smell of decaying animal corpses hit him again. Seemed that was the smell of excitement for vampires. He tried to hit Jeroen's face, but the vampire blocked him. He fucking needed his dagger.

He started to faint.

His knees became week.

The colors blurred.

The laughter got weaker.

And then glass splintered, pieces hitting the vampires and some few even Colt. Somebody had shot through the window.

`They weakened the security glass,' Colt thought. And two seconds later a big wolf jumped through the glass into the hallway.


He growled. Colt saw how Martin peed himself.

The two vampires turned away from Colt and approached the wolf. They knew that one of them would be dead quickly, and the other one maybe `living' another 30 seconds.

When Antonio made a dash for it, too many things happened at once.

CE jumped at the vampire with only one eye, biting through his neck as if it was jelly.

Another wolf, golden and powerful, jumped through the broken window directly at Jeroen, piercing him with his fangs while in flight.

On the other side of the locked glass door, an elegant dark gray wolf tore a screaming vampire out of his booth, let him run for some meters, in the hope of being able to escape the beast, before he pounced and broke the vampire's neck with one bite.

And within seconds the three vanquished half-deads decayed to skeletons, which turned into dust momentarily which disappeared as if by magic.

Brian, in his human form, ran with an iron bar through the entrance and broke the glass door.

Martin had fainted; Susan was locked in their meeting room. Colt had slipped off the wall to sit on the floor.

Prime's golden wolf approached him carefully, kneeling down, putting his head on his legs.

"Thanks, Prime, you guys were just in time. Are you okay?"

The wolf ignored his concern and started to sniff him, checking him for injuries.

"And how do we explain this mess to the police?" Brian asked, with Sam and CE joining him in their human, naked form.

"Call the campus police. I'm sure they have connections to keep this under wraps."

An hour later the police arrived, carrying away a seriously injured Martin and a Susan in shock.

His wolves were men again and fully dressed, giving their statements to the police like Colt did: "Worked late. Security guys wanted to rape Susan. Martin and Colt tried to protect. Security guys beat them. Colt's friends, who came to pick him up, heard the fight and helped. Security guys ran away."

The police nodded, with the guy in charge looking to Prime. `We understand,' it meant. `Vampires.'

After an intense shower, Colt came to the main room.

"Need something, Meta?" Sam asked.

"Actually, tea would be nice."

"Tea it'll be," Sam answered walking into the kitchen.

Prime, who had looked out of the window, turned around. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, seems that vampires trying to kill me thing is becoming routine," Colt tried to joke.

"Not funny," Prime said like a disappointed father.

"I know."

"You should have told us that you don't work in your office this week."

Colt wanted to argue, but he knew the Alpha was right. He hadn't thought about this. "I missed that, my mistake. Prime, Brian, CE, Sam, I'm sorry. I screwed up, putting you and myself in unnecessary danger. It won't happen again."

Prime's anger with Colt disappeared immediately. Deep inside the Alpha was a hopeless softie; he closed the gap to Colt and hugged him.

And the other wolves joined in. Yes, he'd made a mistake - again, but that hadn't stopped them for one second from protecting him. They would always be there for him.

The next day, he finished the report without Susan and Martin, handing it over to a very surprised boss. He got a good review and a job offer for after his graduation. On top, he got the last week of his internship off to recover from the trauma.

He did take the week off, but was highly doubtful about the job offer. The eyes of his boss had said it all. They were scared of him. His boss had thought he would be dead; and the fact he lived and three vampires were vanquished had scared the shit out of this man.

He didn't know what was going on, but he knew it hadn't been a coincidence he was sent to this company with vampires as security guards.

And it wasn't a coincidence he'd gotten this internship based on the recommendations of Mcfuckmyass Erickson and the dean.

And with all of this, he'd forgotten about the three letters; and nearly about the secret fourth one.