Running from the Wolves (Wolfsbane Book 1)

by Lola Glass

  Lightning fast, Roman grabbed my uniform tank top off the couch and ripped it in two, tossing the first half to Arla. She pressed it up against the mark, putting pressure on the wound to stop the blood flow. No Alpha had ever cared enough to do that before, but then again, most Alphas didn’t have six hundred thousand dollars to bribe me with.

  “Roman.” She commanded the male Alpha with a single word. I held out my arm, wrist up, and tapped the delicate skin where my hand met my arm.

  “I’m not slicing your wrist.” He growled in response, his fist clenching around the fabric in his hand. His midnight eyes had darkened to black. I rolled my own hazels and turned my hand, pointing to the top of my wrist. His growl was a bit softer, but he didn’t argue with that.

  Roman’s mark was quicker than Arla’s. He didn’t warn me or ask for permission, he just went for it. His claws descended from his fingertips and swiped across my wrist. He had the fabric from my ruined uniform pressed tightly to my skin so fast I didn’t even see any blood.

  “Thanks.” I pushed his hand away with my own, holding the fabric down on my burning skin as I pulled the limb to my chest. The action seemed to frustrate him, but I wasn’t about to concern myself with an Alpha’s feelings. Most didn’t have any.

  “Alright, we’ll have an apartment cleaned and ready for you by this evening. Do you need to go get your things from somewhere?” Arla checked.

  “Yeah.” I turned to my purse, letting go of the fabric on my wrist for a second to grab my top out of the bag. I’d be fine to take the subway to the Bronx in just a sports bra and jeans, but it was freaking cold outside. Roman’s hand closed around the fabric on my wrist, holding it down tightly. I glared up at him.

  “You need to stop the bleeding.” He glared back, not releasing me. Tension sprang back up between us, and I fought to stop myself from shifting and making a show of dominance of my own.

  I was waiting for the shoe to drop, for Arla to jump into action and tackle me for being the subject of so much of her mate’s attention. Instead she said,

  “Roman will go with you.” And stepped out of the room, leaving me alone with the Alpha Male.

  “I’ve never seen a female so okay with her mate touching another woman, even on the arm like this.” I tried to push Roman’s hand away again but this time he wouldn’t let go.

  His lips lifted in a smirk.

  “Arla’s my twin sister. She couldn’t care less what women I touch.”

  Oh.

  “You still need to learn to keep your hands to yourself.” I pulled my wrist away from him and he finally let me go. “You can send an enforcer with me. None of the other packs know I’m here, I don’t need an Alpha’s protection.”

  “I’m going.” Roman didn’t seem willing to discuss it.

  I let him win this one, since I’d won with the Alpha mark. And, the protection wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

  “Alright, let’s go.” I tugged my top over my head and left the room, expecting he would follow me. He did.

  THREE

  I’d planned on taking the subway to my apartment, but there was a fancy sports car waiting outside the skyscraper when we finally made it to the ground level.

  “This is us.” Roman gestured to the fancy black truck. I knew next to nothing about trucks or vehicles in general, but even I could tell this was an expensive one. He pulled the passenger door open for me and didn’t acknowledge the look I shot his way, which said something along the lines of,

  What the hell kind of alien planet is your pack from?

  Roman pulled onto the road, handing me his phone so I could program my address into it. When I did it connected to the big screen in the center console with a larger version of the map. Rock music started playing from the stereo, and even I could appreciate the way the bass shook the car.

  “So who’d you punch?” he nodded at my wonky fingers. I dropped my hand to the side and looked away.

  “A wall.”

  Lie.

  “You don’t seem like the type to struggle with anger issues.” He said.

  “I’ve got plenty to be angry about.”

  Truth.

  “Like what?”

  This guy wasn’t giving up. I’d have to give him something to shut him up.

  “My life experiences can be described with the phrases ‘power-hungry men’ and ‘asshole Alphas’ so like I said, plenty.”

  I thought that would sway him, but I was wrong.

  “So it was an Alpha you punched.”

  I wanted to strangle him.

  “Why didn’t he get you medical attention for your hand?”

  Maybe I didn’t have anger issues, but this guy was going to give me them.

  If he could assault me with questions that pissed me off, I could sure as hell do the same.

  “Why did you feel the need to kill someone else so you could have power over your pack?” I shot back.

  “I walked in on him abusing his daughter and it hit home a little too hard.” Roman didn’t take his eyes off the shitty New York City traffic, but his fingers did tighten on the steering wheel. Maybe that would’ve pleased me if I wasn’t too busy reeling at his words. “An Alpha protects his pack. Why didn’t yours protect you?”

  I ignored the question, eyes pointed to the world outside the window. I’d taken a lot of abuse from the Alphas in my life, and I’d never had the impression they were made to protect.

  Roman waited for my response with more patience than I’d attributed to him.

  “I’ve never seen an Alpha protect anything but his mate and his own ass.” It wasn’t an answer to his question, but he’d have to get over that.

  “Your ass matters a hell of a lot more to me than mine. So who did you punch and why did you have to do it?”

  He was relentless, but not in a bad way. It was almost as attractive a quality as it was infuriating.

  “An Alpha told me I would mate with him. When he didn’t take no for an answer, I slugged him in the face. He didn’t think I deserved medical attention so the fingers healed weird. End of the story, don’t ask again.”

  It was far from the end of the story, but that was a hell of a lot more information than I’d planned on giving him before we had this conversation.

  “Which Alpha?”

  He thought I didn’t notice his fingers clenching the steering wheel. He was wrong.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I looked out the window. If I didn’t change the subject, he’d keep questioning me. “You ever feel weird wearing sweats and a t-shirt in a pack full of rich people?”

  “No. They know me well enough to be surprised if I showed up in a suit.” Roman apparently didn’t have the same hang-ups about answering questions as I did. “Does it make you feel weird?”

  He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I met his gaze. It may as well have been a challenge for dominance, but rather than pissing him off it made his lips tilt upward.

  What the hell kind of Alpha was this guy?

  “It makes me feel more comfortable with you than I should.” I broke eye contact. He didn’t comment on that but said,

  “You can trust me, Henley.”

  I snorted.

  “I haven’t trusted anyone since I was eight. Not about to start now.”

  “I’ll convince you.”

  The confidence oozing off of him pissed me off. Partially because it was so attractive, and I refused to be coerced by his sex appeal.

  “Good luck with that.”

  Roman turned up the volume on his music. I’d never been into rock, but it filled the air and managed to relax me a bit.

  It was nearly forty minutes to my studio apartment, but the time passed quickly. We got out of the car and started hiking up the three floors of stairs without exchanging words. The place always reeked of weed and stale smoke mixed with the scent of whatever fruity thing my downstairs neighbor was vaping at the time. That day, it was watermelon.

  “You lived here?” Roman broke the
silence as he eyed a particularly large chunk of missing wall. If you poked a fork into it, you could probably peek into that person’s apartment. They might kill you then, though. The place was full of questionable humans.

  “Yep.”

  He glanced at the steak knife stuck nearly handle-deep in my neighbor’s door. That had been there since a few days after I moved in six months earlier. I could feel him judging me and got a little defensive. It wasn’t nice, but it was my own place and it meant a lot to me.

  “You weren’t scared?”

  “I’m scarier than anyone here.” I stuck the key in knob and turned it, considering the statement. “Well, at least ninety percent of them.”

  “You’re tiny.” Roman scoffed.

  I flipped him off and swept my hair to the side to show him the scars covering my skin. Arla was the only one who’d seen them earlier, and I wanted him to realize the shit I’d survived. He swore when he saw the skin, his fists clenching and arms growing hairy. I ignored the loss of control, mostly because I wasn’t sure what to say about it. Instead, I said,

  “Most people won’t mess with a girl who wears this many scars with pride, regardless of her size.”

  “Those are all Alpha marks.” His voice went growly. I cursed myself for liking it.

  “Yup.”

  I headed over to the metal clothing rack on wheels I’d purchased when I realized my studio didn’t have a closet. Grabbing the duffel bag beneath it, I started tossing clothes in the bag.

  “What can I do?” Roman shut the door behind us. Whatever his judgment of the place, luckily for him he didn’t mention it. The studio was the first place that had ever really been mine, and I loved it.

  “If you’re not afraid of a few tampons, you can grab the stuff from my bathroom.”

  He went. Without comment, too. It was a bit of a test, to be honest. Most women of our kind only had periods during werewolf mating season, which went the end of December to the end of March. Male werewolves extra hormonal and possessive during that time so they were weird about tampons and pads when it wasn’t the season. My period was irregular but I had one at least every other month.

  For unknown reasons, my body didn’t believe in mating season.

  Roman came back with a grocery bag full of toiletries and tucked it in the side of the duffel bag. I was always careful to keep my number of possessions small enough to fit in one bag so I could be ready to leave at any moment. Losing all my shit had happened more than I cared to remember as I’d been passed from pack to pack, and it sucked.

  “Will the apartment have furniture in it?” I glanced around my tiny studio. A mattress and the metal clothing rack made up the entirety of my furniture collection. I might need an advance on a little of that bribe money if apartments in the ‘scraper weren’t furnished.

  “Yeah.” Roman didn’t hesitate. He glanced over at my pitifully small kitchen. Cooking on a hot plate was almost as much of a joke as my mini-fridge and the single cabinet that functioned as my pantry. “Dishes too.”

  Phew.

  He whipped his phone out of his pocket and his fingers flew across the keyboard. “What else do we need to grab?” he’d put his phone away as quickly as he pulled it out.

  “That’s it.” I zipped the duffel bag and threw the strap over my shoulder. Roman crossed the room in a grand total of two large strides. He grabbed the duffel bag strap and lifted it over my head in one smooth motion, pulling it over his own shoulder.

  “I can carry my bag.” I protested.

  “So can I.” He shot me a grin. “Let’s go grab some food.”

  My stomach growled at the mention of food. Had I eaten that day? It growled again, louder, and I suddenly felt like my body was consuming itself.

  Nope, hadn’t eaten.

  “If it’s pizza, I’m in.”

  We trucked down the million stairs, and Roman somehow managed to fit my duffel bag in the tiny trunk of his fancy car. After a heated discussion about which pizza place was the best and whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza, we made it to the food.

  We’d only just stepped inside the restaurant when Roman’s phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw that it was Arla calling, then decided not to comment.

  Cream and red contrasted each other on the place’s walls and tables, creating an antique-feeling restaurant. It was one I’d eaten at a dozen times because I swore their crusts were concocted entirely of magic and unicorns.

  “Order whatever you want.” Roman handed me a black credit card and stepped outside to take a call. I already knew he wanted an abomination with pineapple, a shitload of meat, and a wheat crust, so I got in line. It felt weird to order for Roman and weirder to pay with a card that had his name on it.

  What kind of Alpha handed his credit card to some chick who’d just joined the pack?

  Not the kind I’d ever met.

  Pride had me wanting to whip out the money in my bra to pay for myself, but Roman could clearly afford it easier than I could, and I needed to save up for the inevitable moment another pack caught up to me so I could run.

  He came back in as I sat down to wait for the pizzas. The place wasn’t busy seeing as it was the middle of the afternoon, and the music playing from the speakers gave it a chill vibe I liked.

  “Everything okay?” I asked Roman.

  Why did I care?

  “Yeah. Just pack drama.” He sprawled out in the chair, looking like he owned the place.

  “So you’re not mated?”

  Why the hell had that just come out of my mouth?

  “No. Is that an offer?”

  I rolled my eyes and his lips twitched.

  “Yeah, right. What about Arla?”

  “Not mated either. She’s too busy with school to pay attention to men.”

  “Really? What’s she studying?”

  College had never been an option for me, but even if it had been, I wouldn’t have had a clue what I wanted to get my degree in.

  “Physics.”

  “Oh, geez. She’s smart, then.” I grabbed a napkin and wiped my hands, just the tiniest bit self-conscious. There I was, a bartender who didn’t even have a high school diploma thanks to asshole Alphas dragging me from state to state without a shred of care for my future. I was lucky one of the douchebags had even thought to grab me a photo of my own mother before burning my childhood home to the ground.

  “Smarter than me.” Roman’s shoulders lifted in a shrug.

  We finished eating and headed out. The drive back was even more laid back than the drive there. I’d half-convinced myself I was in some kind of a dream, because I hadn’t imagined I’d ever feel even somewhat comfortable with an Alpha, let alone sort of like one.

  “Your apartment is 4406.” Roman said as the elevator went up.

  “Thanks. I’ll find it myself.” I held my hand out for the duffel bag. I could see his reluctance, but he handed it over.

  The doors opened on the 44th floor, and I exited the elevator. Roman’s gaze lingered on me until it closed and began moving again. I didn’t let myself wonder why or feel the interest growing within me.

  My eyes scanned the numbers on the doors. Odds were on the right, evens on the left, so I started down the hall with my focus on the left.

  4402…

  4404…

  4406. Third door on the left, fire extinguisher beside it.

  The door was unlocked, so I went right in. I’d expected something decent considering the size of the building, but not what I found.

  Coffee-colored wood met floor-to-ceiling windows in place of the wall that spanned the length of the living room, giving me a beautiful view of the sun that was currently setting over the city. The other walls were painted a pretty dove gray color. Elegant white cabinets lined the large kitchen to my right, and black, veined countertops rested on top of them.

  I slipped my shoes off beside the door, walking into the space reverently. I’d never lived anywhere nice, spending most of my life as a glorifie
d—or unglorified—prisoner. My feet carried me into the living room that spanned out to the left of the kitchen, sinking into the dark blue rug over the floor. I trailed my hand over the back of a smooth white sectional occupied by a horde of pillows ranging from light to dark blue in a variety of patterns.

  The whole place smelled weirdly pleasant. Not like cleaning supplies or air freshener, but like… something else? Common sense told me that it had to be the smell of fresh paint or new furniture, something I’d never smelled before.

  My body seemed to grow lighter as I walked through the rest of the apartment. Three large bedrooms occupied the space though one was clear of furniture, a blank canvas. The biggest bedroom was connected to a huge bathroom with a walk-in shower that had three huge showerheads. The bed was a monstrosity too, covered in a white duvet and pillows that matched those decorating the couch.

  I touched everything. It was all soft and clean, smelling fresh and new. A lump built up in my throat, and I headed back into the kitchen. Sitting down in one of the fancy kitchen chairs, I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned my head down on them.

  My heart pounded quickly in my chest as panic began to set in.

  How was I supposed to live in this apartment? To survive among the rich and elite?

  I’d walked through more hellish situations than most people could imagine, but this was something else entirely. The world of money and power and skyscrapers full of werewolves…

  I had no idea how to deal with that.

  I wouldn’t cry. I’d learned not to do that a long time ago. But I wasn’t sure I’d be okay, either.

  Two knocks sounded on the front door, and then it opened.

  I definitely should’ve locked it behind me. What the hell was this place doing to me?

  “Henley?” A male rumble gave away the culprit.

  That damn Alpha.

  I swiped my fingers under my eyes to make sure there was nothing there and then stood quickly. He stood in the doorway, looking a bit uncertain about entering my apartment without permission.