Rogue Wolf

by Alexis Pierce

  I chew my lip, and Poppy huffs in my arms.

  “What’s her name?” Eve asks after a long silence. I glance up to find that she’s stepped closer to me, her hands facing out toward me to show that she’s not going to attack.

  For now, my brain supplies.

  “Poppy,” I say, burying my face in her fur. Another pup stalks up, his body low. A high whine comes out of him, and Eve doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, she sits cross-legged on the floor across from me and allows him to sniff her. Eventually, he seems to decide that she isn’t a threat and crawls into her lap. “And that’s Ben.”

  Eve shakes her head. “Where did they even come from?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Nobody ever tells me anything important. I’m just supposed to take care of them.” I stroke Poppy’s downy fluff, the thunder receding outside. The storm is fading for now.

  Eve pets the pup in her lap. He’s far too young to be a wolf. None of them were born wolves. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have transformed so young. They’ve all been bitten, and I have the sneaking suspicion that Kenneth is the one doing it. I can’t fathom that he would be so cruel as to do this to children, though.

  “I’m going to destroy Kenneth,” Eve says after a surprisingly comfortable silence. “No matter what it takes, he will not be around much longer.”

  I shake my head, my ginger hair falling past my shoulders like a barrier against the rest of the room. “You can’t,” I insist.

  Her eyes are like daggers boring into my skin. I don’t even have to look up at her to know she’s watching me.

  “I will,” she says.

  And for some reason, I believe her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thompson

  Anderson walks with me on one of my food deliveries, his thick muscles straining against his black t-shirt distractingly. Since the elevator broke half a decade ago, we have to walk up every flight of stairs with enough food for forty people, the plastic containers stacked in duffel bags because I couldn’t find anything better.

  “How’s stuff with your dad?” Anderson asks. He knows about the abuse, of course. I flinch at myself for using such a strong word, mostly subconsciously. I know that my father is abusive, but it’s hard to admit it to myself.

  I shrug, turning my face slightly away from him so he can’t read my eyes. “Fine, I guess,” I say. The last time I was alone with my father, he commented on how pathetic it was that I had to share a mate with Anderson. I wanted to point out that it’s not an uncommon thing, but he’d been holding a silver letter opener, and the scar across my chest panged. It doesn’t help that I don’t spend as much time with my mate as Anderson does. I’m still living in my measly apartment without so much as an offer to stay the night with the two of them.

  Anderson doesn’t respond for a while. We deliver food to three of the families on the bottom floor, smiling and acting like there’s nothing wrong until we’re alone in the next stairwell.

  “Thompson,” Anderson says, his voice tight and worried. I look over at him, frowning. He’s never sounded as unsure of himself as he does right now. We’ve been friends our whole lives, but there’s something about his changed demeanor that gives me pause. I stop on the landing, and he copies my action. He refuses to look me in the eyes.

  “What?” I ask when my anxiety builds so high that I can’t breathe.

  His eyes turn to mine, his brows scrunched together in pain. What has come over him lately? He’s spent the past couple weeks avoiding me. Ever since Eve took me as a mate, it’s like he’s been unable to look at me. The fact that he asked to join me on my deliveries today was a total shock.

  “Are you happy?” he asks. “Being mated to Eve? And…” He stops again, wrapping his arms around himself. He’s so vulnerable that I want to reach out and comfort him, but I don’t want to frighten him away with my touch. Instead I wait while he tries to find the words.

  “Being stuck with me,” he finally chokes out. “Doesn’t that freak you out? Is that why you haven’t moved in?”

  For a moment, I’m at a loss for words. What is he trying to say? Is he uncomfortable being stuck with me in this triad? I shake my head to clear it. “Of course not,” I say. “I like being around you.” I hesitate while he watches me, his expression still unsure. It’s now or never, I suppose. “I like…you.” I can’t bear to look him in the eyes when I say it, though. I turn my face to the bag in my hand, gripping the strap so hard my knuckles turn white. The fluorescent overhead flickers, the stairwell a sickly green from disrepair.

  My vision tunnels, and fear grips my heart like a vice.

  Then, a hand rests on my cheek, tilting my face so I’m forced to look at him. Anderson has always been bigger and stronger than me, the perfect specimen in the pack’s eyes. Because of that, I never realized that he was shorter than me. I shiver as his eyes penetrate mine, searching for something. My muscles coil, prepared to flee despite the lack of physical danger.

  “What do you mean?” he asks. His voice is softer than expected, his minty breath tickling my face. His expression is completely open, waiting for my response.

  I lean into his touch and bring my spare hand up to caress his. I’m not sure I’ve ever been touched by a man in a way that wasn’t violent, and it honestly frightens me. It’s like I’m waiting for the impact of a fist or claws, but it never comes. Instead, his fingers move so that I can wrap mine around his hand. He grips my fingertips tight, our hands meeting on my face.

  “I mean I like you.” Good god, am I going to have to spell it out for him? I feel like I’m in middle school again. “I like like you.”

  His lips twitch up in the softest of smiles, and he steps forward, our chests brushing. It’s dark and gloomy in here, but when he tilts his head up and brushes his lips against mine, the entire world brightens. I allow my eyes to flutter closed, a sigh releasing all the tension from my body.

  Footsteps tromp up the stairs, and I jerk away just as Freya comes around the bend. She looks between us, and I expect animosity. Instead, she’s just tired. There are bags under her eyes, and she has a leather jacket around her shoulders that I recognize but can’t quite place under the current conditions.

  “Don’t let me interrupt,” she says, moving past us swiftly. Eve’s scent wafts over me, and I go stock still. That’s where I’ve seen it before.

  “Where did you get that jacket?” I ask, suddenly on high alert. I know my father trusts Freya, and there’s a chance she may have done something to my mate to please him. Blood rushes in my ears, and the room turns to stark contrasts of light and dark as I sniff for any other scent, like blood or death.

  She shrugs. “Eve and I were hanging out. I was cold.”

  I frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Ever since Eve showed up, Freya has held nothing but a burning hatred for her.

  Wait.

  Eve. Freya called her by her name.

  I open my mouth, but Freya interrupts, waving her hand at me, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell. I’m on board with…” She glances around the stairwell, tilting her head like she’s listening for anyone else that could be around. “Whatever you all wanted. We’ve been spending some time together occasionally. That’s all.”

  I nod, but I’m still tense. I haven’t seen Eve since this morning, and even then it had been brief. She’s been off on her own a lot lately, although I’ve assumed it was because she was downstairs working while I’ve been stuck in my father’s office once again.

  At that moment, another set of footsteps comes up the stairs, and Eve emerges. I sigh with relief, and she glances between Anderson and me, sniffing the air subtly.

  “Well,” she says, crossing her arms and smirking. “It’s about time.” I flush. Kissing Anderson had been amazing, but the knowledge that Eve can smell it on us is a bit off-putting.

  She doesn’t linger, instead passing all three of us. She gives Freya a nod and goes up to the apartment where she and Anderson live, her toned arms bare under the
stairwell’s shitty lights. I long to run my hands over her skin, but we haven’t so much as touched since that trip to the woods.

  When she’s gone, Freya makes a popping sound with her lips.

  “Alright. Well. I guess I’ll see you guys later. It’s been a while since we sparred.” She raises a hand in an awkward wave. She’s right. We all used to have sparring lessons all the time, practicing our fighting techniques with our hands and teeth. Ever since Eve arrived, though, those have stopped.

  “How about we meet in the courtyard this afternoon?” I offer as an olive branch. We all used to be friends. Why can’t we be like that again? Everything lately has been fucked up, and it would be nice to get some normalcy back in our lives.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Eve

  Anderson and I change into fitness clothes and meet Thompson in the courtyard for some sparring. It’s been too long since I’ve done any fighting, and my inner wolf paces excitedly at the concept.

  While Anderson is wearing the expected basketball shorts and t-shirt combo, I stop in my tracks when I spot Thompson. He went back to his own apartment to change into his clothes, and the sight of him now makes my mouth water.

  His legs are covered by a pair of black fitness leggings that show off his ass, and he’s wearing a red cropped hoodie that gives a peek at his lower back. He isn’t wearing his glasses, and his hair is mussed.

  “God damn,” Anderson and I say at the same time. When Thompson turns around, I suck in a breath and shove my hands in the pockets of my own leggings. His deliciously toned abs peak out below the hem of his shirt, and my eyes trail up to find him staring at me, his gaze filled to the brim with heat.

  “Ready?” he asks, his voice husky and low.

  He’s doing this on purpose. I shake away the lust growing in my body, then toss my hair into a high ponytail.

  “Ready as I always am,” Anderson says boisterously, clapping a hand on Thompson’s shoulder. I don’t miss the way Thompson’s eyes tighten or how his muscles coil at the action.

  “Careful, Anderson,” I growl before I can stop myself. They’re both my mates, and I’ll be damned if I allow even the slightest pain between the two. Anderson needs to understand Thompson’s limits, even if that means embarrassing them both a little.

  Anderson glances at me, then back to Thompson, who gives a tight smile.

  “It’s fine,” he says, pulling away before Anderson can respond. “Let’s go kick each others’ asses.”

  Anderson laughs and jogs out into the middle of the grassy lawn, spreading his arms. “I think you mean let’s allow everyone to watch you get your ass kicked.”

  “You can’t even beat me,” a voice says from the other side of the courtyard, and Freya walks up. She’s wearing a pair of forest green leggings with mesh cutouts. A gray sports bra covers her top, and her hair is in a messy bun. The afternoon is chilly, and her cheeks and nose grow a little pink at the nippy air. “Not without shifting, at least.” She pulls an arm over her chest and holds it with her other hand, then does the same on the other side. Her lips part and her eyes flutter shut, a tight groan coming out as she finishes her single stretch. My jaw drops as I watch her, and Anderson nudges me. I flush and shut my mouth.

  All these wolves are trying to wreck me. How is it possible for all of them to be so damn hot?

  “Rules,” I say, holding a hand out to tick them off in order. “One, no killing. Two, first blood wins.”

  The three of them wait, watching me in anticipation.

  After a pause, Freya says, “And?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “What else do you need?”

  She smiles, her pink lips parting over a set of slightly sharpened teeth. “Nothing at all.”

  She and Anderson are the first to spar. Thompson and I sit on a blanket he brought, and Freya and Anderson circle each other, each evaluating the other. They slink around, the wolves in them clear at this moment.

  I see it before Anderson does. Freya’s body tenses the tiniest bit, and he’s still too busy evaluating his opponent when she rushes him. He’s ready for her to attack on the left, but she goes right instead, kicking his feet out from under him and slamming her hand into his throat, throwing him to the ground.

  I should be concerned, feel protective over my mate, but instead, I laugh. She leans over like she’s going to cut him with a fingernail, but he punches the back of her knee so she loses her balance. Then, he leaps to his feet, claws out. A thin layer of fur now covers his arms and legs, and his features turn lupine.

  My heart speeds up at the sight of him. I still haven’t actually seen him in his wolf form, but I desperately want to. I cross my arms over my belly and lean forward, a shiver of anticipation rolling through me.

  Freya doesn’t stay down long enough for him to attack. Instead, she shifts instantly, her tawny coat bursting out of her skin as her bones crack. Her clothes are instantly destroyed, and I flinch at the waste. She could have at least removed them or worn something a lot stretchier.

  The wolf in the middle of the courtyard bares her teeth and snarls as a small crowd gathers. Gloria puts out a lawn chair and sits, and a few pups who are too young to transform gather on the edge of the makeshift arena. The way they crouch throws a visceral memory of me and the others doing the same when we were young. As the older wolves fought, we would sit impatiently, wishing for our own turn.

  “Go Anderson!” One of the young boys shouts, pumping his fist.

  The girl next to him shoves him over, then yells, “Kick his butt, Freya!” I smile at the friendly competition as these children decide their champions.

  Unfortunately for Anderson, the idea of glory is too much of a distraction, and it isn’t a moment later that Freya tears into his exposed calf, her teeth puncturing the skin. He cries out, but she releases him before he can retaliate, shifting back into her bare human form almost instantly. Gloria stands and wraps a flannel blanket around her shoulders, pride alight in her eyes.

  “Thompson, you’re up,” she says as Anderson limps over to the blanket where I’m sitting, his bite taking longer to heal because of the deep punctures. He’s back in his fully human form, his features flat.

  “Better luck next time,” I say, patting him on the shoulder. He shrugs me off and leans forward. Is he seriously pouting over this? I roll my eyes and watch Thompson as Freya turns back into her fully wolf form, shaking off the blanket.

  He’s more lithe than Freya, his body moving in sync with her attacks like they’re caught in a strange sort of dance. She attacks, he blocks. He doesn’t go on the offensive, though, and that’s his mistake. When he’s just a moment too slow, her claws graze him across the belly just enough to draw blood. If this were a real battle, it would be a fatal mistake.

  As it is, though, this is just for practice, and now it’s my turn. Freya doesn’t change back, watching me as she sits back on her haunches. I strip out of my clothes right there in the courtyard, shifting seamlessly into my wolf form. My senses sharpen, and I tense my paws in the damp earth below.

  This won’t take long.

  Freya’s hackles rise, and her chops turn into a snarl as she bares her teeth at me. The pups who are too young to change cheer on the sidelines, but Gloria watches me, her head tilted with curiosity. I take a step forward, and Freya snaps her teeth at me with a warning bark. Another person enters the courtyard and leans against the building, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirks.

  Kenneth has come to watch.

  Freya charges me, and I dodge out of the way just in time. I glance over at Kenneth to see him evaluating us, determining who is the best female in the pack. There’s something in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine, and I’m not quick enough to dodge Freya again. Her teeth clamp around my throat, her growl vibrating around me. She isn’t quite puncturing my skin, though. I know exactly what she’s doing. She has me trapped. If I try to move in any way, she’ll draw blood and win. There’s only one way out of this.


  I let out a soft whine and curl my tail under myself, hunching over to seem as small as possible.

  She lets go, and I expose my throat to her and lie on the ground in submission.

  She’s won, and I barely even put up a fight. When I glance over, Kenneth’s eyes twinkle in amusement at my predicament.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eve

  As it turns out, when Freya isn’t spending time with the pups, she gets manic. After a lot of loud banging that rattles the frames on the walls, I open the door to the apartment, pulling my earbuds out. “What’s up?” I ask, putting them in my pocket. Freya’s eyes are wild, and her nails have been chewed to the quick. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen her without her fake nails on, but it is the first time I’ve seen how bad her anxiety can be.

  “Can we go somewhere?” she asks, glancing past me to the otherwise empty apartment. She’s wearing the leather jacket I loaned her, and I hesitate for just a moment. This will be the first time we’ve really hung out other than taking care of the pups in the basement, and we haven’t really discussed the match from the other day. Because of my distraction, she’d pinned me down easily. I’ve always assumed that knowing how to fight dragons would make a fight against another wolf easy, but I was wholly unprepared when we actually shifted. If I want to have any chance at beating Kenneth, it will have to be in human form.

  “Sure,” I say, grabbing my motorcycle keys off the hook by the door. I hand her my spare helmet, and she frowns.

  “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.” She holds the helmet like it’s a snake waiting to strike, and I give her half a smile.

  “It’s not so bad. Anderson almost had a heart attack the time he rode it, though.” She laughs a little at that, but her hands still tremble. I lead her to the parking garage, checking behind me every once in a while to ensure she’s still there. When we get to my bike, which has been far too neglected since I arrived in St. Louis, I hop on and start it, slipping my helmet on. Freya stands and stares, clearly weighing the risks.