Wayward Son

by Kimbra Swain

  “I’m married,” I said.

  “So, am I,” she replied.

  I shoved her hand away, slapped more than enough money down to pay for my bill, and stuffed the last bit of the burger in my mouth. I regretted it, but I wasn’t leaving it behind.

  “I said no. I don’t fuck fairies,” I said, then practically ran out of the diner. The attached gas station lit up as twilight surrounded me. A burly man with tattoos lining his body climbed into the cab of a large truck. “Hey buddy!” I ran up to his window.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Just a ride.”

  “Where?”

  “Not here,” I insisted.

  “Come on,” he said, nodding to the passenger seat.

  We rode in silence for a while. Just before I drifted off to sleep, the man spoke.

  “Whatcha runnin’ from?” he asked. I looked over to him. He looked to be in his fifties with salt and pepper hair. He wore a cheap flannel button-up shirt and work jeans.

  “Nothing,” I responded.

  “Young man like you with no belongings except a duffle bag… I’m willing to bet you ran from home,” he said.

  “I don’t have a home.”

  “No friends?”

  “No.”

  “Usually that’s your own fault.” I supposed in some ways it was. When I was younger, my father taught me how to be an Alpha. My friends knew it, and I claimed it. I didn’t boast about it, but when they came after me, I would use it to get them to back down. It never worked.

  “It’s definitely by choice.”

  “You seem likeable enough. No lady friend, either?”

  I didn’t even want to talk about women. The females in our pack that were my age feared me. The violent Faeborn wolf.

  “No.”

  “I have a daughter. I hope she finds a nice guy one day. She’s about your age,” he said.

  “I’m not looking for a hook-up.”

  “Well, I will not set my daughter up with a guy I picked up at a gas station who obviously has no home or direction. If you don’t have a goal, then you have no destination. You should probably decide what you want to do with your life.” I listened to him talk, but in my youth, I ignored his advice.

  I woke up several hours after our talk. We sat at a truck stop in Shreveport, Louisiana. “This is as far as I go,” he said.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said, gathering my bag.

  “Good luck, Son. I hope you find what you are looking for,” he said, and stuck his hand out to me.

  I shook it. His grip was firm. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “The name’s Jeremiah.” He said with a smile.

  “Nick,” I replied.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  I nodded and got out of the truck. I know now that he was Sanhedrin, and that he could have struck me down for being a lone wolf on the road with no pack. He didn’t, but he also didn’t take me to Shady Grove as he did so many other supernatural beings.

  Nine

  Wandering around the state, I worked odd jobs and bought new clothes when I could. My body continued to mature into the Alpha wolf despite being disowned. I drew attention from women, but I only allowed myself to find comfort in them for a night. So many I could have kept in my bed for longer, but I would move on. Just enough to satisfy that thirst in me. A wolf hungered for sexual contact, but a fairy demanded it.

  For seven lonely years, I bounced from town to town. I don’t know why I never left Louisiana. Something about the swamps and the lay of the land called to my wolf's senses.

  Late one night after a pretty shitty week, I sat at a bar in Houma, Louisiana. I was drinking the cheapest beer on tap by the pitcher, because I was low on funds. A college football game played on the televisions in the bar, and the few patrons cheered for their perspective teams. I mostly ignored it, wallowing in my loneliness.

  “Howdy,” a man said, sitting down next to me.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  “I’m Sully,” he said, sticking his hand at me.

  “I’m not buying,” I replied.

  “Holy shit! Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” Sully said.

  “What will it be, Sully?” the bartender asked the man, who must have been a regular.

  “Hey, Hoss. Get me a glass. I’m gonna share this cheap beer with grouchy,” Sully said. “And bring us another one.”

  “Sure thing,” Hoss said with a grin.

  “I don’t remember offering my beer to you,” I said with a low warning voice.

  Sully chuckled. “Did you just growl? Sounded like a growl to me. What do you think, Hoss?”

  The bartender shook his head while he filled another pitcher of beer from the tap. It wasn’t the cheap stuff I was drinking. The deep amber of the beer filled the pitcher slowly. Part of me hoped he was sharing it with me. I could use something more than the piss water I was currently drinking.

  “So, what brings you to Houma?” he asked. I wasn’t getting rid of this guy. He was just one of those types.

  “Just passing through,” I said.

  “From?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Well, where ya going?” he asked as Hoss sat down the pitcher. Sully reached over and took the glass from me, handed it to Hoss, then waved the piss water away. Hoss picked it up and poured it down the drain.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” I protested.

  “Don’t worry. I got your tab for tonight.”

  “I don’t know you. And I don’t know what you want, but I’m not in the mood for bullshit. I’m not into guys, so we aren’t hitting it. I ain’t doing any extra work for you. I’m not…”

  “Damn, man. Slow your roll. I see a man down on his luck. The best I can do is offer you better beer. It’s a gift,” Sully said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I can,” he said. “You see, my dad owns half this town and spending his money gives me great pleasure. And I ain’t into guys either, but you are good lookin’ enough that I might change my mind.” He nudged me with his shoulder and filled both glasses with the nicer beer.

  I reached up and rubbed the excessive scruff on my chin. I’d allowed it to grow out because I didn’t care if it made me look scarier. I knew Sully was full of shit because I looked awful. He handed me the glass of beer, and I took a sip. It tasted so much better than whatever that other shit was.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “So, where ya headed?” he asked.

  “Nowhere.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You are passing through which implies that you came from somewhere and you are going somewhere, but unless there is a town called Nowhere, I’m pretty sure you’ve got a story to tell,” he said.

  “Do you do this to everyone?” I asked.

  “Yep!” Hoss answered.

  “Don’t listen to him. Hoss is my uncle,” Sully said.

  “When I claim you,” Hoss replied as he cleaned my used glass at the sink behind the bar.

  “What’s your name?” Sully asked.

  “Nick,” I replied. Dominick was such a specific name. I didn’t want to take the chance of running across another group of wolves who might want to test my Alpha abilities.

  “Nice to meet you. Is that short for something?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Only reason I ask is that Sully is short for Sullivan. Are you staying somewhere tonight?” he asked.

  “What the hell, man?” I said, getting frustrated with his forward manner.

  “Okay. All right. I’ll back off, but you look like you need a friend, and if it’s just a few drinks at a bar with a cool guy like myself, it seems like you might want to take that opportunity,” he said. “Let’s drink to Nowhere. May it be the destination you are looking for.” He raised his glass. I tapped it and drank.

  We sat quietly drinking the beer. I thought he’d end up moving, but he didn’t. He sat and watched the football game. I wanted to leave, but the beer was too good. Never underestimate t
he power of a good beer.

  “You like either of these teams?” he asked.

  “Not really. I never kept up with football much,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah? Did you play any sports? You look pretty athletic,” he said.

  “Yeah, I played baseball and football in high school,” I said.

  “Ah, those were the days,” he sighed. “I played baseball. Less contact. My parents thought I would hurt someone if I played football.” He showed me his biceps. We were actually close to the same size. I smirked at his flex. “Hey, Hoss, guess what?”

  “What Sully?” Hoss groaned.

  “I made him smile,” he said.

  “Nick, if you know what is good for you, I’d suggest you finish that one and move on. This one will attach to you like a lost dog,” Hoss said.

  “He’s right. Most of the people in this town hate me because of my dad. Shit happens. I just make the best of it. I’m just making friends because I ain’t got none around here.”

  “Sounds lonely.”

  “You would know.” His insight triggered a reaction from my wolf. A warning. “I really don’t want any trouble.”

  “Are we back to this again? I swear on my mother’s grave that I am not here to steal from you, kick your ass, or fuck you,” he said, holding up his right hand. I shook my head and finished the glass of beer. I didn’t dare pour another one, but he did. “Something has happened to you to make you not trust anyone, and that sucks. Even with my hated father, I do have some people who would stand by me.” I assumed he meant Hoss.

  “I don’t have anyone, and I like it that way.”

  “All right. If that is the truth, you finish that glass and move along. But if you stay, I order another pitcher, plus two plates of cheese fries,” he said.

  I finished the glass of beer in one long pull. “Thanks for the beer. How much do I owe you?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied with disappointment.

  I nodded to him and made my way out of the bar. Stepping into the dank humidity of the night, I took a deep breath to clear my lungs of the smoke and beer smells of the bar. A twinge of scent hit my nose. Another wolf was nearby. I turned to my left when a man stepped out from an alley beside the bar. He stuck his hands in his pockets blocking my way.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. I turned around to avoid the conflict.

  “Where are you running off to, Dog?” the man’s deep voice growled.

  I didn’t answer him or look back. I made it to the next alley when a man stepped out, shoving me. I dropped my duffle bag, holding my fists up for a fight. Two other men approached from across the street. I realized then I must have stepped into a bar owned by wolves. Perhaps even Sully was a wolf.

  I showed the men my palms. “I’m just passing through. I’m not here to fight.”

  “We don’t like strangers in our territory,” he said. Rarely did wolves claim parts of cities, but it wasn’t unheard of.

  “I mean it. I’m on my way out of town. I just wanted to stop for a beer. Had I known it belonged to you guys, I would have kept on moving,” I said, backing away from them. One of men picked up my duffle and began pulling my few belongings out of it. I couldn’t protest. I was in their territory. I saw four, but that meant there were many more in the shadows.

  “Nothing in here worth anything,” the man said, throwing down my now empty duffle.

  “What you got on you?” another said, approaching me slowly.

  A rumbling growl started in the pit of my stomach as a warning for them to move along. The men just taunted me.

  “He thinks he’s important. Listen to him growl. Oh! I’m so scared,” one joked.

  “Just let me go, and we can forget this happened,” I said.

  “What’s going on here?” Sully’s voice interrupted the discussion.

  The men froze in their places and took several steps back from me. Each one lowered their head in reverence.

  “Are you the Alpha?” I asked.

  “Naw. My dad is, but I run the pack as his heir,” Sully said. “Back the hell up. He’s with me, and I find out that any of you mongrels laid a hand on him, I’ll cut you out. Duke, put his clothes back in his bag.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Duke replied, stuffing my clothes back in the bag. I walked over and took it from him. He didn’t dare meet my eyes. He scuttled off into the darkness with the rest of them.

  “Need a place to sleep tonight?” Sully asked. I started to reject his offer, but a warm place to sleep sounded nice.

  “I don’t want to cause you any other trouble,” I said.

  “The Houma pack is strong, and nothing you can bring into it could hurt us. You are a loner, obviously, but I bet you have a story. Call me crazy, but I want to hear it,” Sully said. “What do ya say?”

  “Yeah, a couch or a blanket on the floor would be nice,” I said.

  “Yeah, okay,” Sully smirked, then clicked a button on his key fob. A bright yellow Dodge Charger with black racing stripes chirped. “That’s me. Come on.”

  I climbed into the car and realized it was one of the custom versions of the vehicle. It looked awesome, and when he cranked it, something inside my manhood squealed with delight. He remained quiet on the drive, which seemed strange. He turned off the main road onto a smaller country road, then turned into a drive with two hulking iron gates.

  “Wow,” I muttered. The gates opened automatically.

  He drove down the tree-lined drive to a massive house. The drive had a road that veered to the left, and he took it.

  “That’s Dad’s house. I have a little one of my own,” he said.

  Less than a half mile from his father’s house, Sully pulled up in front of a stone-accented cottage. It was bigger than my father’s house. Hell, it was probably bigger than the whole town where I grew up.

  “This is nice,” I said.

  “Just something little until I inherit the big place, which I don’t want, but we can talk about that later,” he said.

  I followed him inside. A stone fireplace sat in the center of the large conjoined open space featuring a living area with leather couches, a dining table, and a luxury kitchen.

  “The guest room is down here,” he said.

  I followed him down the hallway filled with pictures of him and his friends hunting, fishing, vacationing, and partying. I also noticed he was never the central figure of the group.

  He went into a room with a king-sized bed, a recliner, and an attached bathroom.

  “This is the guest room?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I need to spruce it up a little, but I hope it’s okay.”

  “Man, I’ve never stayed in a place like this. It’s perfect.”

  “Why don’t you get a shower? No offense, but you stink worse than a wet dog.”

  I hadn’t had a proper shower in several days.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  He slapped me on the back shoulder. “Just another reason I won’t fuck ya,” he joked.

  I was getting used to his sense of humor. I liked him. I wondered why my life as the Alpha’s son had been so different. I knew why. I was willing to bet that Sully didn’t have a drop of fairy blood. I ended up being wrong about that one.

  The shower in the bathroom had two overhead sprayers, plus a hand-held one. Thankfully, it was stocked with shower gel and shampoo. I hadn’t smelled so good in a long time. I usually just bought a bar of soap from a dollar store and washed in a creek.

  White fluffy towels hung on a rod, and I wrapped one around my waist. On a tray beside the sink, a new razor and shave gel sat calling to me. Taking my time, I shaved the thick scruff of hair I’d grown. I actually looked young again.

  When I walked back into the bedroom, my duffle bag was gone. A note laid on the bed. “I’m washing your shit. Hope these fit.” A pair of jeans, t-shirt, socks and a pair of boxers sat under the note. Like I had said, Sully and I were about the same size. It felt amazing to slip into clean, new-to-me clothes.

  Sully
sat on the couch, flipping channels drinking a beer when I walked back into the room.

  “Damn, Nick. I might fuck ya now,” he said.

  I picked up a beer from the coffee table and looked at the label. “Fancy beer?”

  “It’s a craft beer from a local place.”

  “Does your dad own it, too?”

  “Actually, I own it.”

  “Then why were you down at Hoss’ place?” I asked, taking a sip. It was damn good.

  “I smelled someone new in my territory, and I had to check him out. I told you that you smelled bad, right?”

  “It’s been a rough stretch,” I admitted.

  “So, no pack? How long has it been?” he asked. Now we were getting personal. I hesitated, and he noticed. “Look. By your words, you will be out of here tomorrow, and whatever you tell me won’t matter. Sometimes a guy just needs to get shit off his chest. I can tell you this, by looking at you and hearing that growl, I know you are Alpha.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Your father was.”

  “I don’t have a father.”

  “So, they disowned you?”

  I took several swigs of the beer and stared at the label. A wolf’s head lifted in a howl before a crescent moon. “Why a crescent?” I asked.

  “Full moon is a cliche.”

  I laughed at him. Sully was anything but a cliche. “What’s your last name?” I asked, trying to remember the names of the friendly packs and the enemies.

  “Talbot. Sullivan Manchester Talbot.”

  “Manchester? That’s fucking awful,” I said.

  He poked out his chest. “I think it’s fitting,” he replied in a voice deeper than his normal. We laughed together and tapped beer bottles. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes. It’s very good,” I said.

  “I’m hiring. If you want a job for a little while,” he said.

  “I can’t stay. I would damage your reputation.”

  “What’s your last name? It’s only fair.”

  This was the moment he kicked me out. I almost welcomed it. Being accepted into his home so willingly put me at ease, and I needed to be alert.

  “Dominick Conell Meyer,” I said. His eyebrows lifted. He knew me.

  “Whiskey Chitto.”