by Viola Rivard
It had actually been quite common for his sister to bleed during her pregnancies, often for no discernable reason. It drove Cain insane, but was almost always benign. In fact, Hale had, at one point, taken it upon himself to be the calm, rational one. While Cain and Alder had devolved into panic, he’d made it his mission to cheer Sarah up and keep her from fretting.
Hale was now beginning to understand why his older brother hadn’t been able to keep it together during those times. His mate was afraid, his offspring was in jeopardy, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
You can stay calm, he reminded himself.
“I don’t think I should carry you to the den until Cammie checks your back,” he told her. “I’m going to go get her and—”
Hale didn’t think it was possible for Taylor to grip him any harder, but she surprised him. “Please don’t leave me. Please.”
“You need someone who can help you,” he said, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Someone with medical experience.”
Taylor nodded her understanding, but in the same instant, broke into another bout of sobs. Under any other circumstances, Hale probably would have been annoyed with her, but at the moment, he understood. He didn’t want to leave her side either, not even for a few minutes. And although he knew that he was just a poor substitute for his brother, he couldn’t help but relish the feeling of being needed by her.
“How about this?” he said. “I’ll go outside and call for help. I’ll have whoever responds go and get Cammie for us, okay?”
She nodded again, her sobs ebbing away. Hale squeezed her hand once again, before standing and heading outside. In the short time that he’d been in the cabin, the wind had picked up speed and was dumping snow over the territory in haphazard gusts.
Hale shifted and let out a long, powerful howl. Though most of the pack had probably already taken refuge in the den, he was confident that someone would hear his call. Once he was satisfied, he shifted back into his human form and went around the back of the cabin, pulling a few logs of moderately dry firewood from beneath a tarp-covered pile.
When he arrived back inside, Taylor had covered herself with a heavy blanket. She was still sniffling softly, but appeared to have calmed considerably. Hale fed the fire, and then grabbed a few rags and set to cleaning the entryway. Her eyes followed him while he worked.
After several moments of silence, she asked, “Do you still love me?”
Hale looked over at her, dumbstruck. Logically, he knew that it was a valid question. After all, this was the most time they’d spent together in two months and he’d gone out of his way to ensure it. But her question clashed so harshly with his feelings for her that he couldn’t help but feel taken aback.
He set the soiled rag aside and moved to rinse his hands in a small dish of water. “Of course I do.”
“Then what is it?” she asked, her voice sounding small. “Does it bother you that I’m pregnant?”
One of his hands tightened into a fist. “Yes… but not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Hale unclenched his hands, and then dried them both on a towel. He let out a small sigh before making his way over to where Taylor lay on the furs. There was no anger visible in her expression, but even more unexpectedly, she also didn’t appear upset. Despite the puffiness around her eyes and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, she looked to be simply curious.
“They’re not mine,” he said solemnly. “I thought I’d be okay with that, but I’m not.”
“We talked about this, Hale. They’re just as much yours as Alder’s—”
“But they won’t be,” he said, his lips flattening. “Up until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even want pups. Now I do, but I have to share them with my brother. And he might not have been much of a father to Snow, but at least he knows what not to do. I don’t know shit about being a father.”
“I don’t know anything about being a mother.”
He knew he should just let her reassure him, but his mouth refused to cooperate.
“But you’re not competing with anyone,” he told her. “Even if you’re terrible at being a mother—which you won’t be—they won’t know any different. You’re the only mother they’ll ever know. But next to Alder, I’ll always be second best. The one they go to when their real father isn’t around.”
Compared to the shock of finding Taylor lying in her blood, his confessions felt trivial. For the first time in weeks, he was able to admit his true feelings with minimal shame and self-loathing. Though, he had a nagging suspicion he’d regret it all later, once the adrenaline wore off.
“It’s not just that, Taylor. I don’t want to share you either. This entire situation has me thinking that wolves really weren’t meant to share mates.”
Her brows drew together. “I don’t get it. If you’re so hung up over me, why have you gone out of your way to make me feel like crap since Alder’s been gone?”
The words weren’t an accusation, just a plain question, and it allowed Hale to be honest, rather than defensive.
“Because when I was watching my brother leave, all I could think was that I wished he’d never come back.”
Taylor’s gaze softened. “Hale…”
He held up a hand. “I don’t mean that I wanted him to leave you. I mean, I wanted him to die.” He tried to swallow, but found that he couldn’t. “I even had the thought that if he did try to come back, I’d kill him myself.”
Her neutral demeanor morphed into one of shock and dismay. “You didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, I did. I wanted him dead. I don’t know if it’s instincts, or if I’m just completely fucked up, but I wanted you so badly that I could have killed my own twin… I thought that if I spent more time with you, if I had you all to myself for even a few days, let alone weeks, I’d never be able to share you again.”
Before Taylor could formulate a response, Lark and Fenix burst into the cabin. Hale saw alarm spread over their faces as they caught the scent of Taylor’s blood, but they both relaxed somewhat as they took in his calm demeanor.
Cammie came in behind them, and he was grateful for her intuition, both because it meant Taylor wouldn’t have to wait to receive care and because he didn’t want to be alone with Taylor while the others went back to the den to get the healer. He wasn’t sure whether Taylor would admonish him for what he’d confessed, or worse, try to minimize it and convince him that his murderous thoughts had been nothing more than a momentary lapse in sense.
They weren’t. They were a neurotic fixation, one that he entertained on a nightly basis. As far as Hale’s wolf was concerned, Alder was dead the moment he tried to set foot on Halcyon territory. Even the knowledge that Taylor would hate him forever if he killed Alder was enough to dissuade his wolf. Only his humanity and the distance he forced between himself and Taylor, kept him believing that he wouldn’t actually go through with the plans.
Hale stayed in the cabin while Cammie performed her examination and Lark and Fenix pummeled Taylor with questions. Taylor was still noticeably flustered from their unresolved conversation, but she remained patient and poised, her eyes only occasionally darting over to the corner where Hale lurked.
After confirming that her back was bruised, but otherwise all right, Cammie shooed Lark and Fenix out to give Taylor a more intimate examination. Hale remained inside, but averted his gaze, his jaw clenching as he heard Taylor moan in distress. When it was over, Cammie decreed that everything appeared to be “structurally sound” and that the pups would be okay. She advised Taylor to stay off her feet for a few days and asked that Hale bring her to the den where they could keep an eye on her. For once, Taylor didn’t utter a single protest about having to stay in the cave.
After swaddling Taylor in furs, Hale picked her up and carried her outside, where the weather had continued its descent into chaos. Flanked by Lark, Fenix, and Cammie, he began the trek back to his den.
During the long w
alk, he considered the ramifications of his confession to Taylor. Ultimately, he decided that he didn’t regret it. He was glad to finally be honest with her and also glad that she didn’t think his behavior had anything to do with not desiring her.
But it changed nothing. He still had to keep his distance from her.
Even as he thought this, Hale’s wolf growled low within his chest. He had the nagging suspicion that he wasn’t doing anyone any favors by keeping his wolf on a short leash. He was just setting himself up to snap and lose control in spectacular fashion.
Chapter 3
The bleeding had stopped by the second day of the blizzard. Cammie assured Taylor that nothing was wrong, and while Taylor believed her, it did little to assuage her anxiety. The entire ordeal had kicked her maternal instincts into overdrive and she was through with taking her pregnancy for granted.
By the end of her first week in the den, the snow still showed no signs of stopping. The winds dumped snow into the main chamber of the den, forcing the pack to retreat into the lower chambers for warmth. There was plenty of firewood to last them, but after a few days the fresh food supply ran out and they had to fall back on what was in storage. Each afternoon, Hale led a small hunting party out into the snow-locked valley, usually coming back with enough meat to feed the beta wolves and Taylor.
For the most part, Taylor tried to take her meals in private so as not to taunt her friends. Thanks to the maternal instincts, she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about gorging on fresh meat while the others gnawed on jerky husks.
Although Hale was considerate in providing food for her, their relationship hadn’t changed much. Since his bizarre confession, the alpha had remained as distant as ever. Some mornings, he would come to their room and stand by her bedside to stare at her. He never said anything and she couldn’t work up the nerve to admit she was awake.
Taylor wanted badly to bridge the gap between them, but she had no idea where to start. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about what he’d told her. She felt in her heart that Hale would never kill his brother, especially over her, but that didn’t change the fact that Hale believed that he would. So, as much as it pained her to do so, she let Hale keep his distance.
Perhaps it was because of her accident, or maybe because she knew that Hale still cared about her, but she managed to snap herself out of her depression. When she wasn’t sleeping or furtively eating venison, she became quite the social butterfly, hanging out both with her core group of friends and several new shifters.
One night in particular, while she, Lark, Glenn, and Holly were congregating in Lark’s cluttered room, Beka came in carrying a large woven basket. She approached Taylor and, without preamble, dumped the contents of the basket into Taylor’s lap. Taken aback, Taylor braced herself, only to find her lap filled with knitted garments. Very tiny knitted garments.
She held one up, her eyes widening. “Are these…baby clothes?”
“Yeah,” Beka said, putting her hands on her hips. “Unless you plan on dressing up those rodents Lark is hiding in here.”
Lark gasped. “I’m not hiding anything!”
“Yeah, about that,” Glenn said, wrinkling his nose. “If you’re going to keep those raccoons in here after Alder told you to get rid of them, you have to at least clean up behind them.”
“You brought the raccoons back in?” Taylor asked distractedly. She was still captivated by the array of little outfits. The knitting was flawless and many of the outfits were downright adorable.
“What was I supposed to do?” Lark asked, throwing her hands up in the air. “Have you seen the weather? They’d be dead out there.”
“They got on just fine while you were gone,” Holly said. “Besides, they’re not babies anymore. You need to let them fend for themselves. If they die, they die. Circle of life, and all that shit.”
While Lark and Holly argued, Taylor held up another one of the garments, a knitted onesie. “Where did you find these?”
Beka let out a scoff. “I didn’t find them, I made them, obviously.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.”
“Whatever,” she said, waving a hand in her usual blasé manner. “Look, if you want more, let me know. It’s not like I have anything better to do while we’re stuck in here.”
“Can you teach me how to make these?”
Beka arched a brow. “You want me to teach you how to knit?”
“I’m a fast learner,” Taylor said, flashing the she-wolf a hopeful smile.
She thought she saw Beka roll her eyes. “I’m not sure I have the patience for that. But, I guess I can teach you how to sew. After all, it’ll be hot out by the time the pups come. You’ll need something more breathable than these.”
“Yeah, I guess they won’t even need these until autumn or winter. Will they even fit in them then?”
“Of course. I made them bigger on purpose.”
Taylor scrutinized the onesie. It was so tiny. Were her babies really going to be even smaller than that? She tried to think of a time when she’d held, or even seen an infant, but couldn’t. In fact, she didn’t know anything about infants, and now she was going to have two of them.
Great. Another thing to obsessively worry about.
“Yeah, sewing, that’d be helpful,” Taylor said, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy.
The snow finally began to taper off after ten full days, but Taylor wasn’t eager to return to her cabin. While she didn’t particularly like the den, she took comfort in knowing that Cammie was close by if any problems arose. She was also enjoying spending time with her friends and learning to sew.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Holly asked.
Tonight, they were in Holly’s room, an immaculate lower chamber that was sparsely furnished and lit with an inordinate amount of candles. Cringing, Taylor twisted away so as to hide her project.
Holly all but climbed over Taylor’s shoulders to get a look at what she was doing. “What is that?”
Taylor mumbled a response.
“A what?”
“A hat,” Taylor said more clearly.
Holly fell backwards, laughing hysterically.
“Aw, Taylor, it’s not so bad,” Lark offered.
Taylor cast her a weak smile. Sewing garments wasn’t nearly as easy as she’d assumed it would be. Beka had provided her a lot of different fabrics to work with, but hadn’t been the most stellar teacher. She was good at demonstrating her skills, but whenever Taylor asked for an explanation on how she did a certain stitch or measured a cut of fabric, Beka would just shrug and say “I just do it.” She insisted that Taylor would figure it out with practice, but it was very disheartening when she couldn’t even sew a baby hat.
“Yeah, it’s not so bad,” Holly chirped. “If your babies are going to have cones for heads.”
“It’s a work in progress,” Taylor said, shoving her failed creation back in her basket.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Glenn said in a reassuring tone. “In all honesty, I doubt your kids will even need all those clothes my sister made.”
“Why do you say that?”
He gave a slight shrug. “Well, they’re pups. I mean, they’ll be human when they’re born, but as soon as they figure out how to shift, they’ll probably stay like that for a while.”
Taylor scooted closer to him, her brows drawn together. “You mean, they’re going to be wolves? For how long?”
“It’s different for everyone,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I can only speak for Beka and myself. She shifted when she was about a month old, but not long after, she shifted back to her human form and stayed that way for years. She told me once that she could tell it made our mom sad to see her in wolf form.”
“She could remember that?”
“Most of us can remember things from not long after we’re born, so long as we’re in animal form,” Holly said.
Lark gave an enthusiastic nod. “I remember, this one time, gosh, I must have been like
, maybe three months old, and my dad, he brought me this giant worm—”
The occupants of the room made a collective noise of disgust. Lark scowled at the floor, kicking at imaginary dirt.
“I didn’t eat it,” she mumbled. “Just chewed it a bit.”
After clearing her throat, Taylor redirected the conversation. “That’s fascinating. And a little scary. I always thought it was a good thing kids don’t remember the first few years of their lives. It gives parents time to figure out what the heck they’re doing.”
“I think even humans remember their early years,” Holly said. “The memories just don’t fit into any framework that their adult minds can make sense of. But the heart remembers everything.”
Taylor mulled that over for a few seconds, and was surprised to find that she agreed with the fox. She didn’t have memories of her teenaged mother, or her first family, the one that had adopted her before her health issues had become apparent. But she did remember love, and also abandonment. Those two things had been the foundation of her life and had shaped her like nothing else had.
“So what about you?” Taylor asked Glenn. “When did you shift for the first time?”
“I was about three weeks old.”
“Yeesh. How long until you shifted back?”
“Five years.”
“Five years?” Taylor repeated, sure she hadn’t heard him right.
“It’s why Beka and I left,” Glenn said, averting his gaze. “Our dad died before I was born. Our mom tried to raise us in her hometown, but when her baby disappeared, people started asking questions. We moved around a lot. Mom was always depressed. She had to tell people that I was the family dog. Eventually, Beka decided she’d be happier if we were just gone. So we left.”
Taylor placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago,” he said, giving her a genuine smile. “I just don’t want you to worry about your own pups. Beka and I didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing.”
“You think raising children out in the wilderness is normal?”
