by Tamar Sloan
Big bodies are emerging from the trees, behind the Phelan pack. I gasp and my eyes widen. The first to come out into the open is a grizzly bear with an adolescent cub by her side. There’s no way I can tell from here, but I suspect he has a scar across his muzzle. Farther down, a cougar slinks from the tree line, coming to stand just feet away from a Were. They came?
But there’s more. Like a dam has been breached, more grizzlies, mountain lions, even black bears materialize from the trees. They line up behind the massive wolves, some stepping between them, ready to fight.
The giant profound breath whooshes from my lungs. My arms drop limply to my side.
The scales have just tipped.
36
Noah
The rust-colored wolf before me stretches up as his head drops down. Kurt’s muzzle ripples, lips lifting to show white teeth glinting with moisture. I brace myself, my own mouth feeling like the Sahara.
My ears snap back and I hear the scuffing of countless paws, heavy uneven breathing, and stormy, raw growls. My pack shifts forward again, and more of the same comes from the Channons. How do I avoid a massacre?
Kurt’s head comes up, his eyes flaring open and glowing with a fierce, determined light.
It’s about to start.
A breeze rockets through the Glade, gusting over my fur and rushing up the trees. Uneasy growls rumble from both sides of the Glade. I glance quickly left and right, never taking my eyes off Kurt for more than a split second. I don’t see anything. Kurt’s gaze never wavers—a hazel laser zeroed in on me.
His lips tip up, a rabid distortion of a grin.
Anger once again flares inside me—outrage at his abuse of power, desecration of all we stand for, violation of our law.
So be it.
I bend my knees slightly, like a lightly coiled spring, just like Grandpa Ben taught me. I tilt my head, protecting my throat.
And I see her. Eden is standing at the edge of a rocky clearing up above the Channons, arms raised to the heavens in a wide V. And a man stands beside her. Light-colored robes flow in the breeze while his identically colored hair streams in the wind, and his arms also reach for the sky. They look like two deities beseeching, petitioning some higher power.
What is she doing here? Actually, what is she doing, period?
Sucking in started breaths, I see Uncle Joe and Mitch straighten, their heads turning. But it’s only when I see Kurt’s eyes widen, maybe even his jaw slacken, that I allow myself to turn.
Animals are coming out from the trees. Not just any animals. Grizzly bears, black bears, cougars. Big, angry ferocious animals. One big grizzly is standing on its hind legs, huffing and snorting. A smaller, but still intimidating cub by its side. Farther to the left, a cougar is stalking from the trees. It walks straight past the back ranks, feral eyes gleaming, coming to a stop not far from Grandpa Ben. It hisses, never taking its yellow glare off the Channons.
More and more come out, until they line up behind us, amongst us, doubling our numbers.
What the—?
I don’t have time to figure this out because Kurt growls a deep, low, vicious sound, as if something is twisting and snapping in his throat. Saying very clearly that, even though we now have these wild animals on our side, outnumbering them, Kurt is not planning on backing down.
My fast beating heart sinks.
A smaller, grey wolf at the back of the Channon lines moves. From the corner of my eye I see it disappear back into the trees. And another. Two more follow, melding between the brown trunks.
I hear a Phelan give a low, excited bark.
The Channons are steadily reabsorbed by the forest. Their lowered heads admit defeat—a silent unobtrusive retreat.
As each footstep leaves the grassy Glade, Kurt stiffens. Until he’s standing, stark and straight, with only two wolves beside him—Lara, a pale blond wolf, and Dana, a lighter shade than her father.
They face off against the Phelan pack and their wild counterparts.
I morph back to human and feel Mitch stepping in closer, his big, black body practically on top of me.
I take a small step forward. “It’s over, Kurt.”
Something violent and vicious passes through him. I see it shift in his eyes, ripple down his back, tremble in his paws. Mitch is back at my side, and Grandpa flanks my right. Lara whines besides Kurt; she steps closer, but doesn’t touch his motionless form.
“There were no losers today. No blood was spilled.”
His shoulders flex and his lip curls ever so slightly. Lara whines again.
I hear, feel the Phelans shift behind me, closing in, contracting like a heart.
Kurt takes one, then two steps back. His eyes scan the numbers before him—hazel eyes that are no longer glowing, but are now a dark, ashen grey. With another twist of his lip, he turns and stalks to the trees, Lara and Dana behind him, their tails low. A few steps away from the tree line, he pauses, shoulders contracting, head lifting. I tense, but he continues walking, swallowed by the shadowy darkness.
There’s a ripple of sighs from all around. I feel Mitch relax beside me. I sag, like a hot air balloon that just ran out of gas.
I turn, in awe of the animals around me—a family that had stood by me and defended me. And the wild animals that were willing to put their lives on the line. They begin to quietly and quickly retreat. The cougar glances at me, and with a twitch of its tawny tail, leaps between the wolves, disappearing into the trees. The mother grizzly looks a little disappointed, furred shoulders low as she escorts her cub back into the woods.
My gaze returns to Eden, high up on her ledge. She’s alone, a small smile on her beautiful face. I wish I could be there to tell her what this means to me. What she means to me. My heart swells, pressing against my chest.
But my family is jostling me, now a mix of human and Were, relieved and rejoicing. Tara and Mitch, still wolves, nuzzle. For the millionth time, over the past two weeks, I wish Dad was here.
From the corner of my eye, I see something move across the Glade, in the trees. I frown, my shoulders bunching as I peer closer. I shoot my head back, and my eyebrows spike up.
And I’m changing, then running.
Because Kurt is racing up the hill.
Toward Eden.
37
Eden
When I turn back, the man is gone.
I whip around, searching. The clearing is empty, the trees still. Gone.
He looked like me!
My mind stutters, struggling to process what that means.
From my vantage point, I can see the Phelans below are celebrating and hugging, a couple even doing a little jig. Ben and Joe are on either side of Noah, their arms around his shoulders. Relief has tears stinging my eyes. Noah looks up, eyes that I know are a shining blue, even though I can’t see them at this distance. I give him a small smile. I have a pretty good idea what his look is trying to convey.
I turn back, heading to the granite wall. I’m going to have to sit down for a moment and get my heart under control, slow my breathing, and find strength in my limbs so I can start the hike back down.
I hear someone step through the trees behind me. I turn, thinking the man, the one that looks like me, has returned. But it’s not him.
It’s Kurt.
Too late, I realize the grey, robed man never made a noise. Kurt’s boots crunch over the gravelly ground as he moves into the clearing. My smile fades. Kurt looks angry—a barely controlled, feral anger that has his fists clenched and his mouth in a grim, depressed line.
“You.” The heated word explodes like fire. “You did this. I don’t know how…but I know it was you.”
I step farther back, my heart hammering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kurt.”
Kurt moves forward, over the uneven ground, with slow predatory steps . My wary eyes track his approach. They register when he stops, several unthreatening feet away. They catalogue the hands that clench and unclench by his sides.
&
nbsp; “I had plans, a destiny to be something more than just an Alpha.”
More than an Alpha? I don’t say anything, wondering what he’s talking about, unsure why he has chosen now for confessional. Why me?
“But you ruined everything.”
He straightens, and a small smile plays on his lips.
The change, the incongruous smile, escalates my nervousness. I take a small step to the side, moving inches closer to the trees. The move is not missed by Kurt, and his body mirrors my own. That subtle shift of muscles tells me I’m trapped.
His smile grows a little, and he continues like our little dance didn’t just happen. “It all started with Noah and a stray bullet…”
I frown. How does he know about the bullet that injured Noah? I suck in a shallow breath. “It was you.”
“Actually, that one was an accident. Somehow I missed the elk. But it wasn’t totally wasted. It gave me an idea.”
“An idea?”
“A new plan.”
And I’m rocked by understanding. “You shot Adam.”
“Of course I did. He was taking too long to decide. He was always too soft.” He says the final word quietly, full of scorn and contempt.
“You could have killed him!”
Kurt crosses his arms, smirking—an ugly twist of his mouth. “That was the idea.”
I don’t, can’t, reply. There are no words in my shocked, scared brain. No muscles that can work in my tight, agonized throat.
He takes a step forward, eyes blazing. “But you, a weak human, was all it took.” He shakes his head then looks at me. “Showing Noah is as soft as his father.”
“The bonding.” I breathe.
“Yes.” Kurt hisses the word. “The bonding.”
My hand comes up to my head, pushing in on my temple as connections are made and implications are grasped. “You didn’t expect Noah to make a different choice.”
“To overrule me.” The second word seethes out on a growl.
“He made the right choice for his pack. And for Tara.” Your daughter!
“And I had to resort to that.” His finger stabs the air, pointing past the ledge, to the Glade. “At every step I was able to respond and keep moving forward. It was you that kept getting in the way.”
And now I’m getting angry. A nervous anger fueled by fear, but anger nonetheless. It makes me reckless. “You wanted this all along.”
“I was meant to rule them both. Them all!”
I drop my voice, knowing he can hear me. “Noah’s twice the Alpha you’ll ever be.”
Kurt inflates and expands, rage distending his body and his face. “You will learn the superior power of a Were!” He roars, a drop of spittle catching on his beard. His big body trembles, fury rippling up and down.
A funny smell wafts over, a slightly metallic scent weighing on the breeze. Kurt is close to snapping.
What do I do?
I need Noah. But if he’s here, the fight that was just averted will become a reality.
But the barely controlled fear spiking through my nerves is not optional.
He will come.
Kurt begins to change, but it’s not the fast magical shifts I’ve seen up until now. He does it slowly, agonizingly. His face lengthens to form a muzzle, the skin stretching and twisting. His arms drop to the ground, bones grinding as they shorten and thicken. His back arches as russet fur pushes through. It’s drawn out and grotesque. Caustic bile leaves an acrid taste in my mouth. I don’t have any saliva to wash it away.
An angry, red wolf stands before me. He stretches his neck, head tilting from side to side— adjusting to his new predator body. A growl ripples across his serrated muzzle. Hatred shines from his hazel eyes.
He throws his head back and falls forward on a roar, spittle flying through the air in a stringy arc. And I know why he has chosen to tell me the truth. He doesn’t plan on me living long enough to tell the story.
This is a wolf with nothing to lose.
Then he’s powering toward me, thundering paws counting down his approach, eyes getting closer, teeth getting bigger. I’m frozen, fear congealed in my throat, no longer letting me breathe.
Just a few yards away, he pushes into the air, into a leap that will bring him crashing down on me. His mouth opens, two rows of teeth preparing to sink into my flesh. I bring my arms up in front of me—useless fragile protection against the snarling mass of fury and hatred that is bearing down.
In a sudden blur of movement, dazzling white streaks through the space before me, crashing into Kurt midair, pushing him off course and slamming his body into the ground. Kurt’s wolf form gouges through the dirt and gravel, leaving behind a shallow groove.
Noah stumbles, then rights himself, instantly turning and coming to stand in front of me. My knees go weak, relief and fear robbing them of strength.
Kurt heaves his russet body up and walks toward us, growling menacingly, his head low and shoulder blades jutting to the sky. He weaves from one side of the clearing to the other. Noah stands still, only his head tracking Kurt’s zig-zagging approach.
Without warning Kurt leaps again, jaws open, straight for Noah. I feel my own body brace for the impact. Noah rears on his hind legs, meeting him mid-flight. They crash together, teeth flashing, mighty growls bouncing off the rock wall behind me. Kurt’s momentum pushes Noah back; Noah twists slightly, preventing him from falling over. Kurt pushes his head forward, trying to get to Noah’s throat. Noah twists again, snapping inches from Kurt’s face. It’s enough for Kurt to pull back and take a few steps away. He stands there, taking stock.
Kurt moves forward, another stealthily measured approach. Noah takes three steps forward, intending on meeting his attack. Kurt’s gaze flicks over to me, seeing the opened space around me. He sidesteps, looking to get around. I take two frightened steps backward, my back crashing into the wall. Noah registers his intent, a roar ripping through his chest, and in a flash, he steps to the side and pushes his front paws off the ground, and moves to deflect the attack.
Kurt locks his massive body, ready for the white Were that is coming at him. Canines glint as his mouth, wide open, spears for Noah’s throat. Again the massive bodies collide, and broad heads snap, biting at throats, shoulders—anything they can get a grip on. A yelp rises from the writhing mass of fur, and my heart stops.
Kurt has managed to push Noah to the ground, his fast-moving head snapping, pulling back, and snapping again. Noah uses his powerful back legs to push Kurt off him, and he stumbles back a few steps. Noah instantly rights himself, skidding back to his place before me. I feel something tear in my chest when I see a dark, dirty-red gash down his left shoulder. Noah’s been hurt.
Kurt sees the seeping blood, garish against snowy-white fur, and an evil, satisfied smile lifts up his lips. He bows his head again as he moves forward once more. He’s sensed a weakness and he comes in, looking to exploit it.
This time Noah doesn’t move from his position in front of me.
Kurt moves forward, and the agonizing fight is played out once more. Noah rears, and once more, there’s a clash of coppery red and silvery white, of sharp teeth and colliding bodies, of angry attacks and desperate defenses. Kurt’s onslaught is powered by violent, mindless fury. I’m his target, and Noah is in the way. Noah pushes him away again and again. Kurt comes again and again. Each time they collide, my wide, frightened eyes can barely register what’s happening, who is gaining in this battle.
I dig my hands into the wall behind me to hold me up as I realize that in this fight, a fight that was never fair to start with, Noah is at a disadvantage. He’s the proverbial sitting duck; all he can do is wait for Kurt to come at him again and again. At a disadvantage because he’s protecting me.
Unable to use the speed that could have given him the upper hand.
I need to do something, but what? I look at the great big wolf before me, the older, more experienced russet wolf that is getting ready to attack again. And an idea forms. But it’s go
ing to need two of us.
As Kurt accelerates, his body gaining momentum as his stride extends, I take two steps back. Please let him hear me.
Don’t move, Noah.
Noah freezes, his ears turning back. And I leap onto his back. I feel his body halt, tense beneath me.
Jump!
Without hesitation, with split second timing, Noah arches into the air. I duck low over his shoulders, my hands sinking, gripping into his fur, my left hand becoming slick with Noah’s blood.
And we’re sailing through the air, straight over an astounded Kurt.
Noah lands a few feet past him and instantly spins to face his adversary. The moment he’s still, I slip from his back.
I’m okay. I run for the edge of the trees, finally giving Noah the room and freedom he needs.
With my assurance, Noah doesn’t need to turn back. He keeps his eyes trained on Kurt, who has skidded to a halt, surprise, astonishment slowing him down. Which is all Noah needs.
He runs at him, his powerful, white body lancing across the clearing, at a speed I’ve never seen before.
Kurt never has a chance to completely turn around. Noah is on him within a split second, and with unerring accuracy, his mouth goes for Kurt’s throat. His momentum crushes Kurt to the ground, Noah’s muzzle never leaving the soft, exposed flesh it has attached to.
It’s then that I feel them. I turn to see two packs of wolves surrounding me. The Phelans and the Channons have arrived, fanned out through the trees.
Just in time to see Kurt’s defeat.
Noah’s massive head pins Kurt to the ground. Kurt struggles, his russet body scraping over the dusty, rocky ground then stops when the movement puts more pressure on his throat. Noah growls, his muzzle wrinkling, body heaving with exertion, the dark red blood now extending down his leg.
Kurt goes limp, his head falling to the hard ground, eyes closing. He is incapacitated and completely submissive, waiting for Noah to finish him.
Noah’s lips tip up, showing the razor-sharp teeth that are digging into thick fur. He growls again, jaws clamping down just a little bit more. Kurt doesn’t move.
