Walking around the house in Rayne's thick coat, he kept an eye on the dark wolf that was Darla. She seemed happy and exhausted as she pranced around the other two wolves, snapping at grass and sticks and sniffing the ground. Darla the human likely wasn't aware of what really happened, still locked inside herself with her emerging wolf-sister steering their shared body, because she sure as hell wouldn't have hopped around like a bouncing puppy if she were. Having to live with wolf instincts and perpetual changes for the rest of your life was a horrible thing for someone not born as a werewolf. Nobody coped well with that.
He reached the front door at the same time as the three wolves and Darla growled at him as he moved to open it. Freezing in mid-motion, he rolled his eyes and tried to keep his irritation out of his face as he waited for Darla to decide what she wanted. This was one of the reasons Darwin hated being a submissive. Having to wait for other people to do whatever the damn they pleased and being unable to do anything about it.
Rayne shortened their stand-off. Maybe he was cold too, but whatever the reason, he snapped at Darla's cheek and made her squeal and back off. "Thanks, it's getting too cold for that shit," Darwin murmured relievedly and finished opening the door.
The wolves piled in, Darwin followed. As the guard on duty, he shouldn't have, but with three werewolves having roamed the countryside for miles, nobody would sneak up on them in the next fifteen minutes and he was tired of walking around, hungry and in a bad mood.
Surprisingly, Jared was awake and preparing breakfast. The wolves crowded around his legs to rub themselves against him and licked his hands with happy little yips. Even Darla joined the reunion. They filled the room with dog breath and wet fur. The scent was better than what would follow as soon as they changed back— lymphatic fluid, bone and blood had its own throat-tightening odor, and Darwin didn't look forward to it.
"Guys, perhaps you could shift outside?" he suggested when the group quieted down a bit, but Darla growled at him again. Her dislike for him was palpable. Did her wolf remember what he had done? Or could it be that he hadn't lost all his learned dominant behavior and something about his demeanor provoked her? Darwin was at a loss for answers.
As the group trotted out again, he left the door half open and walked over to Jared, who kept putting bread into the toaster and piling toasted slices on a plate. He felt better the minute he hugged his Alpha and breathed in deeply.
"You haven't showered yet, you still smell like sex," Darwin remarked in a hushed voice and rubbed his cheek against his shoulder blades. "And you're awake. Were you checking up on me?"
Jared huffed with satisfaction, leaning back enough to assure Darwin he welcomed his touch. "Would it be a bad thing if I worried about your safety?" He pulled out a few packages of hotel size jam and peanut butter, then he reached down and grabbed one of Darwin's hands to kiss his palm.
The hot lips on his hand were distracting and the warm breath wafting against his fingers made his cock throb with interest. It made it hard to remember the question and even harder to get angry. "So I froze my ass off out there and you were in here watching me the whole time?" he asked with a breathy voice. Having managed to utter the words made him proud nevertheless.
Jared laughed and the vibrations continued through Darwin's arms and chest and right into his libido. He wanted to say something in return, but the door swung open again and three naked people piled in.
Darla looked very, very pale and shocky and she clung to Harry's arm with fierce resolve. Rayne stopped next to Jared, but the other two didn't slow down and hurried to their shared bedroom. Darla shut the door in Harry's face and left him staring at it with confusion. A few seconds later he turned around and shrugged. "She wasn't well outside, but she did as okay as a person could be in this situation. I don't know what happened."
Three pairs of eyes turned to Darwin, then hurriedly looked away. Their thoughts were all too obvious: In their eyes, he was the reason for Darla's misery. And they were right. Totally right.
Darwin frowned and his expression hardened.
"Let's eat breakfast. Harry and I need to go shopping soon if we're supposed to do it for all of us," he grumbled defensively, then grabbed the bread plate and turned away.
Rayne went to dress with Harry's eyes following his naked butt, then Harry wrestled his way into the room with Darla, only to emerge seconds later with a puzzled frown and a bunch of clothing in his arms. "She won't come out yet, it's too crowded for her," he proclaimed with a shrug.
"Or perhaps she doesn't want to suffer through you putting on clothes," Jared replied with a grin and sat down with the plate full of breakfast spreads in his hand. "But that's fine. It's Rayne's turn to rest and I'm her favorite person in this cabin. She'll be okay with just the two of us."
He looked relaxed as he prepared his first slice, like he couldn't care less about the goings-on around him. The sight irritated Darwin more than Darla's behavior. Why was everybody dancing around Darwin having bitten Darla when it was screaming into their face like this? Maybe Jared thought Darwin couldn't take it. Maybe they all thought he was too sensitive and weak to be taken serious.
Or maybe he was overreacting.
Too much was going on to trust his own feelings at the moment. Sighing, Darwin sat down next to Jared and hooked his ankles around his shin. It was all the contact he allowed himself for now, and even that he only did because he couldn't sit next to his mate without having the naughtiest thoughts.
"We'll need shopping lists from both you and Rayne, and from Darla. Clothing sizes, food, toiletry, whatever you want, you write down. We'll handle the rest," he said in a voice much more euphoric than he actually was. No need to darken the mood, he thought, it would happen soon enough, and everybody would speak their mind at last. It was inevitable.
Darwin wasn't sure if he looked forward to that moment.
George
Carmen, the youngest werewolf of the Banes pack, fidgeted. Her being able to do that while sitting down in the most comfortable recliner George owned was a feat for itself. "Do I really have to?" she asked for the third time, her eyes pleading more to Mary than to George, whom she had found to be utterly untouched by her unease.
Mary, being her aunt and thusly put in the most unfortunate position, sighed and threw another glance at George. His brows were still furred, his forehead wrinkled with resolve.
"Yes. George is a good man and he is still Beta. Only formally, but he can still pull rank if he wants to."
Mary sounded as unhappy as George about the situation, but it couldn't be helped. Being told his son had died once had been enough of a wake-up call for George to stop making others' lives easier than his own.
Two days ago, Carl had called and told Mary that Darwin had changed allegiance. That he had broken the rules and that Carl had had to kill him. Mary had tried to cover the phone and prevent him from listening in, but it had been too late.
Now George knew the pain of a stroke was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the pain of losing a child. Back then, George had thought his cowardice had cost him his son's life. Now that fate had given him a second chance, he wasn't going to throw it away just to spare Carmen some trouble.
Her eyes held some of the arrogant sullenness only beautiful teenage girls could afford and she made an unflattering sound of protest, crossing her arms beneath her developing bosom. "People don't really talk to me, you know? I'm just the young girl allowed to sit in because of some archaic rules," she tried to argue, but George didn't relent.
"You don't need someone to tell you personally what went on, you only have to listen. And you did listen to what the others said about Darwin, didn't you?"
Carmen had the grace to look caught. No teenage girl turned a deaf ear to rumors, especially not outrageous ones.
"Maybe," she huffed and blushed.
The blushing gave George a thought of a different kind, and he grinned. "You don't want to talk to me because I'm his father, is that it?" he pressed gently
and scratched his chin. Carmen having a crush on Darwin was surprising, but not unusual. Darwin was as handsome as he was gay, but knowing and feeling were two separate things, more so for a young heart. As long as Carmen didn't get her hopes up on a future between her and his son, he needn't worry about it.
Carmen turned crimson and ducked her head until her raven-black hair slid into her face, but didn't answer. She didn't need to, her actions said everything.
With a touch of his fingers to the joystick, George wheeled his chair closer to her. He couldn't lean forward without toppling over, but he had found out over time that people reacted the way he wanted them to if he moved as a whole. It made Carmen glance up and meet his gaze.
"Listen to me, girl. I will not make you go against Carl's orders and I won’t ask you to do anything that could get you in trouble with him. But Darwin is my son and I have a right to know what's going on," George said, pleading to her with his eyes but ordering her with his voice. "One day, Darwin is declared a traitor and pronounced dead. The next day, suddenly everyone's hunting for him, so he's very much alive. How did that happen?"
Carmen crumbled after a few seconds of staring. George felt Mary's disapproving glance burn into the back of his head, but he didn't care.
"Well, obviously Darwin has a boyfriend—" Carmen began and was promptly interrupted.
"A boyfriend?! Who? Is it someone from the pack? He never told me!" George ranted and only remembered to breathe when Mary touched his shoulder.
The girl on the sofa made a surprised face, then hesitantly resumed explaining. "I don't know. I heard he has a boyfriend who seems to be an Alpha and that Darwin lured that guy into Banes to overthrow Carl," she said, hesitated again and then added, "which Carl found out. Are you alright, uncle George?"
The question was prompted by George's dumbfounded expression, but he didn't react to it until Mary touched his shoulder. "What? Oh, yes, I mean, no. But I will be," he stammered. It all made no sense, no sense at all. To George, the story sounded like a bad soap opera plot, not like anything even remotely related to his boy. Darwin would never do such a thing, never. He was a levelheaded young man, loyal and trustworthy, Carl knew that. Carl had watched Darwin grow up. He had to know.
So why was Carl hunting Darwin?
"Carl had Rayne, Dennis and Greta catch Darwin's friend from college and I think they are out right now to find Darwin and his boyfriend to bring them in for sentencing. But you're not supposed to be there," Carmen quipped, fidgeting. Her gray eyes flashed through the curtain of raven-black hair like little stars on a night sky, always away from George's searching glance.
"George, please calm down. Remember what happened last time you got this worked up!"
It took Mary's worried voice to snap the old man out of hyperventilating with rage. Of course, he couldn't shut off his anger on command, as much as he wanted to.
"What does he think, that I'd provoke a revolution, a palace revolt, if I'm present?!" he yelled at nobody in particular. "What in god's name has happened to Carl to make him act like this!"
His speeding heart made his pulse thud painfully through his lame side and for a moment he thought the shooting pain would be the last thing he ever felt. But what would happen to Darwin if he died now?
As a disabled man, George had always known people were holding back around him for his sake. He may be partly paralyzed, but he wasn't stupid, or blind. It had bothered him for almost a year, especially in the beginning when he had had to fight to utter a single sentence, had to be fed and washed and clothed by nurses, unable to do anything but drool and scream silently inside his head. People had listened to his stuttering, halting speech, taken one glance at his distorted face, and ceased taking him seriously. It wasn't cruelty on their part either; it was a fact of life that nobody liked one-sided conversations.
It had been a frustrating, depressing time, but hard work had slowly mended that wound.
Other things would never be mended. His son, Darwin, kept secrets from him. He could see it in his eyes, could tell by the dark circles around them, by the way he stayed in bed on some days. George couldn't do anything about it. Doctors told him to not become upset so much because it could cause another stroke, so he tried to keep calm. But fear of another stroke wasn't why he always hesitated to ask Darwin what bothered him, no; the real reason was so much more cowardly.
Whatever had weighed on Darwin for so long— and kept dragging him down—, wouldn't be fixable by a broken man, like George was.
And George was afraid, so afraid. If he made Darwin talk, Darwin would tell him his secret. It had to be something bad, something awful, to torment him so much. If they talked about it, Darwin would get his hopes up. He would expect him to help and that was the one thing George couldn't give. He should be able to help as a father and as the late pack beta, something that went without saying for every other father and son, but not for him. So he hadn't asked.
Having to let Darwin fend for himself like that had worn George down like a leaden weight on his neck, but this night, he decided it was enough.
"Call Graham, uncle George. He was supposed to tell you," Carmen pleaded and her voice shivered with suppressed tears. When he glanced at her, he saw fear written plainly on her face. This time, the guilt grew strong enough to calm him down, and with him coming down the two women in his living room also seemed to relax a little.
"I'll do just that, then," he said, letting Mary pat his shoulder. There were a lot of things he'd want to ask Graham.
Forty-five minutes later, George fought another kind of rage as he tried not to smash his phone. Graham was being nice, but in a dodgy way that screamed of guilt. Of course, he stressed, George's exclusion had nothing to do with him being the one voice speaking in Darwin's favor and everything with him being of fragile health. Carl, so Graham said, worried how George would take their decision, however it might turn out, so he had ordered him to stay away.
Somehow, this bothered George more than the shame over his own state. Some changes in life came sneaking in undetected, slowly and over time, but Carl actively keeping George away from pack business was new; something he had seen coming at some point, but still surprising. Ever since his stroke and all through his recovery, George had been hard-pressed to stop Carl from overwhelming him with constant visits and pleas for attendance. No meeting or decision had been big enough for Carl to keep George away from. Over time this had ceased and become more sporadic, but at no time had Carl ever directly told him to stay at home, to not attend.
When had their relationship changed this much? George didn't know.
There was a chance his own outrage amounted to no more than camouflaged self-pity, but something seemed... odd. Not overly so, but just on this side of not right.
Graham interrupted his thoughts. "Is Carmen still visiting with you?" he asked, sounding nervous and trying not to let his nerves show in his voice. He failed miserably, but not being able to lie convincingly was one of Graham's more endearing traits.
Strange crunching noises came from the background, then George heard a few muffled voices talking, then a shuffling of feet and the clank of a door followed.
George frowned. "Yes, she is still here. Do you want to talk to her?"
"Yes. Wait, no, it's alright. Tell her the meeting starts in fifteen minutes," Graham mumbled distractedly. "And sorry again, George. I know this sucks and I hate to do this to you."
Swallowing his anger, George said his good-byes and ended the call. For a few moments, he relished the silence. He sensed there wouldn't be many more times like that in the near future.
"What did he say?" Carmen whispered. She sounded like a rabbit trying not to attract the wolf's attention and failing at it.
George's expression made Mary take a step closer to her niece. He had to take a deep breath and concentrate on relaxing to wipe off the grim facade.
"Listen, Carmen. That meeting starts in fifteen minutes. Mary's going to drive you over and come back, but she'll
pick you up as soon as it's over. I want you to find out everything there is to know about what's been going on with Darwin, but you mustn't do or say anything that might arouse suspicions. If Carl asks about me, tell him how angry I was at being left out, but do not mention that you told me about Darwin's boyfriend. And if anything dangerous happens, or something that might endanger you, call. Understand?"
By the look on Mary's face, George would suffer a stern talking to later. But Carmen nodded hastily and that was enough of a compensation for him.
As the two women drove off, George watched them disappear into the night through the front window. The days of cowardice were over.
Rayne
"I don't understand," Darla said, her left hand gripping the mug of coffee tightly. "How are Darwin and Harry not like me?" Her eyes were surrounded by dark blotches, her skin was pale and feverish, and her ribs obviously still hurt, judging by the way she sat motionlessly. Only parts of those signs of distress were his fault, the rest was from simply not sleeping very well.
Rayne sighed. How had he gotten stuck with babysitting again? Ah, yes. Still better than having to go shopping.
"You feel it when you watch them, how they move, how they look at you, don't you?" Rayne said, wiggling himself deeper into the easy chair he occupied for their talk. "They are different from you and me, different from Jared. You can sense that, right?"
Darla nodded grudgingly, picking at the armrest of the sofa she was sitting on. Her right thumb left small spots of blood where it touched the upholstery, but they were nearly invisible on the brown cloth, so Rayne didn't comment. It wasn't his home, after all, she could bleed wherever she wanted to.
"They are submissive werewolves, which means..." His voice trailed off. How was he supposed to describe something beyond any description to someone who had no idea whatsoever about his world? With a shake of his head, he decided to start anew. "There are three types of werewolves. Alphas, dominants and submissives. Each one of those types has their own purpose in a pack. You and me, we are dominants. We're supposed to be the army of a pack, the soldiers, those who protect and fight. Whatever curse made us the way we are, gave us the instincts to do so. We're always on the look-out for threats to our pack and to our dominance, always trying to better our rank and position, to find out where we are in a hierarchy, and to defend our place against anyone challenging it."
Unwilling: a shifter romance Page 21
