by Kari Gregg
“Ah.” Dr. Bennet squinted at the tablet. “Make sure he doesn’t drink alcohol. His liver is functioning, but taxing it unnecessarily would be unwise.” He wagged a finger at me. “An occasional glass of wine with dinner. That’s all you get.”
Fat chance. Wine was rotten grapes as far as I was concerned. “May I go home?”
“A few preliminary results first.” Dr. Bennet swiped the screen with his finger. “You’ll be pleased to learn the CT picked up what looks like a womb. It’s smaller than it should be and surrounded by dense scar tissue, but the attack didn’t destroy your womb. You can see it here.” He pointed at the tablet, leaning forward to encourage me to look too. “The ultrasound and MRI back that up, showing moderate blow flow—”
Tuning him out, I stared at the floor. The thin carpet provided scant cushion under the soles of my sneakers, the floor as gray as pebbles layering the streambed near my den. Why did humans bother with carpeting? In a hospital setting, wouldn’t tile be more convenient? A hard floor wouldn’t stain from spilled blood and other fluids, but squirming in my seat, I allowed that humans seemed to have selected the furniture and design of the room more for leisure than interest in maintaining a sterile environment. An assortment of magazines piled on generic tables. Bronze lamps towered in the corners, providing softer light.
“Nox?”
Biting my lip, I scorned Dr. Bennet, my focus shifting to his shoes. I didn’t know much about shoes, had never cared, but I knew expensive when I saw it. These shoes were polished black leather… I dragged a vague memory from my youth. Wing tips? Perhaps. I dug the toe of one sneaker into the carpet, grateful they were as comfortable as they were durable. The human doctor’s spiffy shoes wouldn’t last ten minutes in the woods. Possibly less.
“Nox.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t as readily ignore Asa jabbing an elbow into my side. I grunted.
Dr. Bennet grimaced. “I’m telling you that your initial results are promising, that we have reason for hope. You could pretend to care.”
No, I couldn’t. Because we didn’t have reason for hope. Dio did. The pack did. Even Dr. Bennet probably did, but me? I’d liked my life before the visits with Joth had begun, when my infertility had been mourned but unquestioned. My barren womb had disappointed my pack’s plans for me. I’d regretted that, but I’d fought and struggled until I’d finally learned to live with my failure. I’d thrived in spite of my sterility, the lack of support from both family and pack… I didn’t like these uncertainties or what this so-called hope could mean, the catastrophic changes these tests could bring to the carefully ordered life I’d built.
“Can I go?” I asked, wanting nothing more than the familiar smells of my den and the twittering birdsong of my humble space in the woods.
Sighing, Dr. Bennet tapped the screen of his tablet and laid it aside. He regarded me with solemn eyes. “You aren’t required to bear children. These tests confirm or deny the possibility, but the choice is still yours. You do realize that?”
I smothered my bitter snort. Fat lot he knew. Foolish human. “I want to go home.”
Lips thinning, he slumped his shoulders and transferred his attention to Asa. “The nurse will have readied the flash drive for Dio by now. Please remind him of our appointment in three days.”
Fantastic. Another meeting with the human. I grimaced.
Asa stood, urging me up with a hand at my arm. “This is important to Dio. He won’t forget.”
Somehow, I managed. Through the hospital corridors to the nurse’s station where Asa picked up the USB stick. To the parking garage stinking of car exhaust and beyond through the towns. I fisted my hands, counted my heartbeats, did whatever I had to do to keep this mad, urgent need to run, run, run at bay until I returned home.
Asa crept past a truck parked in my father’s driveway to reach the back, and I gaped at boxes piled in the yard alongside random furniture and a trio of wrestling kids. My stomach balled. I ripped my gaze down.
It had to happen sometime. Three bedrooms with two baths, detached garage, and several acres for play added up to prime housing for a shifter family, not a widower and his damaged son. I’d been lucky Farron had respected my dad enough to permit him to keep the house after the attack and luckier still Dio hadn’t moved a pack family into the place when my dad had died six months ago.
Half a year was apparently all the deference I was going to get.
Asa parked the Cherokee next to the backyard shed, which my dad had converted to a crude workshop before I was born and which I had claimed as my own. My blood rushed in my ears at pack members, arms encumbered with boxes and crates, marching in and out of my den. They piled my tools, supplies, and the detritus of my handiwork in a pickup truck.
The whole world stopped—at least mine did.
Dio exiting the primitive shed that used to be my den sharpened my sense of betrayal. He strode to the Cherokee, stare steady on me. He sniffed, inhaling my scent.
“You’re angry,” he said, voice laced with pleased wonder.
I shook my head. No. I couldn’t afford the rage heating my blood at shifters I grew up with but now barely knew handling my things. The pain of losing my home, I must and could manage. I’d grown accustomed to the harsh blows fate could deliver. But fury? Part feral and broken shifters didn’t dare, especially omegas who were supposed to be gladdened by their alpha’s care.
Instead, I wanted to rip out Dio’s throat.
Arms hanging at my side, I clenched my fingers into tight fists.
“You are. You’re furious.” The corners of Dio’s mouth curved. He tipped his head toward the piles of seasoning wood in the bed of the pickup truck. “I should have, perhaps, discussed moving you into the pack house first.”
Shuffling my feet, I snorted. “Ya think?” Then I stiffened, bracing for a slap.
Punishment for my audacity never came, though. Dio just laughed. “In my defense, you are a very odd omega.” He grabbed my biceps, tugging me along. “I meant this as a surprise and hopefully, a pleasant one. C’mon. Stop glaring at me and give it a look.”
He led me to another pickup truck and urged me inside. I sat in the cab, arms crossed, blood boiling, while he drove me to his cabin and the pack’s headquarters once he’d taken over as alpha. The smell of fresh sawdust filled my nose before Dio parked in front.
He jerked the keys from the ignition and pointed to the right. “Behind those bushes,” he said and climbed from the truck.
Squinting to peer through thick green leaves, I finally spotted the new building and followed Dio’s hurried march through the brambles. It wasn’t big, certainly not as large as a house. It wasn’t even comparable in size with the garage in which Dad had parked his car, but the white clapboard shed definitely boasted more square footage than my old den. Nicer too. Roofing tiles layered the peaked top instead of tin that kept out the wet but not the cold. Windows on either side of the front door were new and insulated with more than a single pane of glass, which would be warmer when the seasons changed and snow blew through the valleys.
Dio grabbed the handle of the screen door I’d longed for every sticky hot summer day for years, and swinging it wide, he pushed open a heavy door with a stained glass inlay.
“Everyone in the pack supported the idea and volunteered to make it happen fast.” He beamed, eagerly waving me inside. “Come on. You’re going to love it.”
He reached inside, to the right of the door, and the interior flooded with light.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my skull. Electricity! A real floor under my feet as I crossed the threshold too. Not pieces of chipboard fitted together that I could never sweep clean because of sawdust settling into nooks and crannies, but honest to God two by fours, high grade oak that had been stained and then polished until it shone. The flooring matched wraparound shelving and cabinets, the surfaces of which had been organized with vises and tools. I gasped, my fingers curling at my side in desperate want.
Power tool
s.
Dad had run an extension cord from the house to the workshop, which allowed me to plug in a battered jigsaw for detailed and fine cutting, but that was nothing like the equipment Dio had outfitted this place with. I walked to the new, fancier jigsaw. I lifted my hand to stroke the attached table. My mind already whirled with ideas for gingerbread trim and artistic flourishes I could create now that I had the right equipment.
“Veradek runs a contracting business. He got us a discount and we also asked advice in the towns. You can return and replace anything you don’t like.” Dio’s eyes sparkled. “We’re hauling over your tools too, of course. Plenty of storage space for them and look.” He strode to a cabinet and bent, pulling open a door. “A mini-fridge for drinks and snacks.” He waved to a pair of doors in the opposite wall. “You have twice the storage space than before and a complete bathroom, including a shower. Plus heat. No shoving wood into a pot-bellied stove anymore.”
Hardly able to take it in, I held onto the metal table of the jigsaw as though it were my lifesaver in a tumultuous sea. “You built me a new den?”
“We built you a new workshop,” Dio corrected. “You’ll den with me.” His brows beetled. “In the house.” When I didn’t immediately confirm this, his brilliant smile dimmed. “You’ll sleep inside, in a bed. You’ve done it before. You can do it.”
“Whether or not I can is irrelevant.” I swallowed around the knot in my throat. “I told you. I’m not feral.”
“You’re feral at heart, and ferals are creatures of habit.” Dio shoved his hands into his front pockets, his shoulders hunching. “This is a much better arrangement for you, and you know it. You don’t like change, but you’re as tough as any feral I’ve known. Maybe the toughest I’ve ever met. You’ll adapt.”
“I need to be consulted about changes, especially drastic ones that upset the life I built over the past half dozen years.” The metal table felt cold under my fingertips. “I don’t like the loss of control.”
“You learned to trust no one except yourself. With reason. But you need to unlearn it.” Dio clenched his jaw, which he tilted to a stubborn angle. “Traditionally, an alpha courts his or her omega mate with grand gestures exactly like this one.”
“You’re fucking me.” I straightened my spine, finally letting go of the tabletop. “That isn’t the same as mating.”
Dio choked back a hair-raising growl. “Oliver says the preliminary test results—”
“Knocking me up isn’t the same as mating either.”
“It was a gift. This.” He tore his hands from his pockets and gestured to indicate the new workshop. “A mating gift.” He glared at me. “You accepted the rabbits.”
Just the first brace Dio had left on my doorstep. As defective as I might be, I wouldn’t insult the alpha trying to breed me by rejecting the extra protein he’d provided to fuel a hopeful outcome to our coupling. Eating those rabbits had been a signal to Dio. I’d refused the other prey animals he’d subsequently brought, though, because as optimistic as he might be about my ability to produce his pups, I was remarkably less so and my acceptance of him stretched only so far.
“If I were capable of bearing children,” I said, “if, then you would be an acceptable father to those children. I recognized you as a potential partner in parenting and that alone.”
He snarled, muscles taut. “You’re denying me?”
Yes. I shook my head. No. “I don’t know.” I blew out a long breath. “I wasn’t supposed to mate. I thought the others might want me for sex one day. Other than staying out of sight, I barely ever thought about how to deal with that possibility.” My shoulders slumped. “No one should’ve wanted me for more than a quick tumble.” I glared at him. “You confuse everything.”
Tension slowly sapped from his body. “You confuse me too.” His stare didn’t waver, but his lips curved. “Dr. Bennet thinks we would benefit from couple’s therapy.”
I groaned. “Humans are the talking-est creatures on the planet, and he’s the worst of the lot.”
“If we talked half as much as they do instead of relying on tradition and instincts, you wouldn’t be upset and I wouldn’t be frustrated.” Dio crossed his arms. “We don’t communicate, and if this mating has any chance of succeeding, we need to learn.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to succeed. Expecting me to follow orders like a good little omega, trying to knock me up, and otherwise messing up my life…” I waved to the new workshop. “Seriously. Why I haven’t run yet is a mystery.”
“No, it isn’t.” He widened his sly grin. “You crave someone to love and love you in return, someone to share your den and build a future with. I’m tired of traveling from pack to pack, fixing problems and then moving on. I want a home and I want it here. With you. We need to figure out how to make a relationship work for both of us.” His stare glimmered with warmth. “Dr. Bennet could help.”
He’d already decided then. I scowled. “Your fondness for humans and their ways puzzles me.”
“It’s time you realized, as much as you don’t fit the role of a typical omega, I am no typical alpha.” His glance swept the workshop. “All evidence to the contrary, but in my defense, I genuinely thought the traditional mating overtures were what you needed. I was wrong.”
My brow furrowed. “That’s the second time you’ve admitted making a mistake.” Alphas didn’t, in my experience. Farron hadn’t. My father hadn’t.
“I’m trying.” Dio uncrossed his arms. “If you would try too… Aren’t you tired of being alone?”
Unwilling to examine my loneliness too closely, I glanced away. Unlike humans, alphas and omegas didn’t enjoy the freedom of choosing life partners. Betas, deltas, and gammas mated for love, but not pack leaders, nor the heart of a pack, a function most omegas served. With the guidance of elders, alphas negotiated those matings to benefit each pack. Humans recoiled from arranged matings, but as nervous as I’d been in my youth, I never had. In my dizziest dreams, I hadn’t fantasized about mating for love. Strategic matings didn’t stop tender feelings from developing, though. The pack devised my parents’ mating and their love had been deep and abiding. My father had been incapable of going on without my mother after her death. Alpha and omega couples simply committed to loving one another in thought and deed until their hearts aligned with the fate chosen for them.
Could I do that? Dio was willing to commit to me.
Was I capable of committing to a mate? I didn’t know, but I needed to find out. Not because Dio wanted this mating to cement his position in the pack. Not to fulfill the expectations drawn for me since my birth, either. I needed to know Joth hadn’t destroyed my or my wolf’s ability to connect with other shifters as readily as he’d ruined my womb.
Dad had lived as a shell these past years, but so had I. Despite clinging to my new purpose inside my father’s workshop, I’d been empty, distrusting, never letting anyone close. I wasn’t sure I could manage more, but damn him, Dio was right. I had to give us a chance. I didn’t want to die alone.
“Okay,” I finally said.
Dio’s eyes narrowed. “Okay to what?”
My stomach flipped. My hands shook. Edgy nerves swamped me head to toe, but I somehow mustered the courage to meet his gaze. “Okay to couple’s therapy.” It probably wouldn’t work, but the strength of Dio’s determination to mate me persuaded me to give counseling a shot. “I’ll try.”
Chapter Six
“Two steps forward,” Dio said on a low drawl, “three steps back.”
I glared at him under my lashes from my perch on the couch in Dr. Bennet’s office. The alpha sprawled beside me, body loose and relaxed in a way I envied, but his ease also infuriated me.
“I haven’t run,” I couldn’t resist pointing out.
“You run.” Dio sniffed his disdain. “Early in the morning, in the heat of the day, late at night… You’re the runningest damn wolf I’ve ever met, which is saying something considering the years I traveled from pack to pack as a fi
xer. I’ve known ferals who spent less time in shifted form.”
I flinched at his criticism. I’d taken regular breaks as a wolf since Dio had tossed me out of my old den. That was true. Long accustomed to shifting and exploring alone when I needed an escape, I’d forgotten the others would regard my frequent absences as strange or, without an escort, even alarming. Omegas didn’t hunt and never roamed without a chaperone. The last three days had reminded me with every instance of Dio’s aggravation and concern when I disappeared into the woods, but the changes the move to a new den had forced upon me had rattled me to my core.
I’d managed to avoid everyone in my pack for six years, but now? Dio must have talked to them. No one approached me with more than a welcoming wave or a casually hailed greeting. My nerves still stretched taut. People! So many people. I could handle Asa. We’d been best friends as boys, and unlike most of the pack, he hadn’t hunted me. His quiet steadiness didn’t threaten me, but the others… Veradek smiled warmly at me, but six years ago, he’d tracked my scent trail for days. Odday had baked chocolate chips cookies she left on my new doorstep that morning, but on another long ago morning, I’d listened to her weeping for me, a wounded wolf she’d deemed too “dangerous” to live. After six years, I thought I’d forgotten the hurt. I’d believed I’d buried the pain of my pack’s betrayal and that it couldn’t touch me anymore.
I was a fool.
The pressure built to flashpoint quickly and often. I needed the simplicity of my animal form to soften the edges of my relentless grief more than ever. Boo frickin’ hoo if my retreat into my wolf disconcerted my pack.
Including Dio, although the new alpha fixer hadn’t participated in the long ago hunt to kill me. I ascribed him as no less another author of my pain. Yes, I ran more frequently, but I blamed him. He had ripped me from the safe solitude of my old den and plunked me into the center of pack activity, where I couldn’t avoid the others no matter how I tried. Shifters dealing with personal troubles usually sought out the comfort of their animal forms, and he dared criticize me for it? I resented Dio’s complaints.
