Before I can decide exactly where to go, I look up to discover I’ve wandered to the clearing where Ivan killed one of my wolf-dogs last winter. Spindly plants have grown and the snow no longer remains, but the images and feelings from that night come screaming back to the forefront of my mind.
The animal’s bloodied, lifeless form laid frozen to the ground. The crippling rage and grief seizing me that day were paralyzing. Rafe, Vivian, and Asa were there as well, and each helped in their own way. God, it was awful.
As the remembered misery of the moment flows over me, I experience the sensation of an epiphany. My dog’s death is the reason to do this—to protect every living thing relying on me for safety, not just the humans and my small pack of werewolves. My skills, my very essence as a werewolf, needs to evolve to the next level. I never want to experience that type of crippling anguish ever again.
A nudge to my left thigh brings my attention downward. One of my dogs, Kujo, leans heavily against my leg, staring straight ahead into the woods. I run a hand through the soft fur between his ears, allowing the peace from the animal’s company to fill me. In less than a minute, we’re joined at the clearing by a dozen other dogs, all of them calm and relaxed.
They’re free from their kennels to roam the property during the daylight hours. It’s only in the winter I worry about their overexposure to the extreme climate conditions. Why are they here now? Are they more mentally connected to me than I give them credit for? Could they have sensed my conflicted thoughts and came to lend their physical presence in support?
My body fills with a lightness I can’t explain. As if the weight of the world has been removed from my shoulders and I can accomplish anything. A true alpha draws on the strength of his pack, and why it never occurred to me that these dogs are just as able to offer their energy as the werewolves, I’m not sure.
Whatever the reason for them being here, I’ll not question it. I’m grateful for each and every furry body in my circle who depends on me—hell, in reality, I depend on them, too. Their friendship and unconditional love would warm the hardest heart.
Eventually, all the animals settle to the ground, and so do I, sitting on the spongey soil with my legs crossed under me. Drawing on the techniques and visualization suggestions Magda taught me a few days ago, I reach for the magic within to trigger the transition from man to wolf.
Slowing the transformation process is my biggest challenge. Normally, my full shift occurs in a matter of seconds, so finding the internal balance to ease into a half-shift is extremely tricky.
My first dozen tries are unsuccessful, where I shift straight to a wolf while still fully clothed. Each time, I resist the compulsion to wiggle out of the clothes to free my transformed limbs and run. Instead, I return to human form. After I transition back multiple times, my muscles show signs of strain, shaking slightly from the effort of reshaping over and over again.
As air wheezes in and out of my lungs, I ease back to lie on the ground, struggling momentarily to get an arm back through a shirtsleeve. Only once did I complete any type of partial shift, and it was my hand. I’m going to need a lot more time to get this skill perfected. I stare up through the tree branches at the cloudless blue sky, willing myself to breathe deeply.
The closeness of the pack feels soothing and supportive. A dog to my left stirs, standing to sniff the air. He releases a soft whine and a few moments later Candy steps out of the woods.
“I wondered where you were. You’ve been out here for a while. Still mad at me?” she says, with a grin on her face.
She knows I’m not mad. There’s no way we could have made love for hours and then I walked away mad at her. That kind of emotional connection and intimacy wipes out the anger and frustration like a one-two punch combination.
“Nah, you know I’m not.” I return her smile. “Although, I still feel a twinge of annoyance. You really have put me in a bind with Vivian.”
“Okay, then. Let’s tell her.”
I cough, my heart clutching in my chest at the suggestion. Maybe she didn’t mean what I thought she meant. “What?”
“You know,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s tell her about us. Let me meet her for real. You guys are going to be leaving soon and I don’t want any lingering tension between the two of you, or between us.”
“Really? You mean it? What about wanting to get to know her and all that bull?”
He eyebrows draw together, creating a crease in her smooth forehead. “It’s not bull and you know it. Besides, I have met her. I did get a feel for her. And I also think you’re right. If we drag this charade out much longer, it’s liable to backfire on us.”
“So, just like that, eh?” I reach for her hand and pull her down next to me on the ground. “You’re ready to commit to you and me?” I hear the hopeful note in my voice and wish it wasn’t there. It’s hard to hide what I really want: a mate and a partner. Despite popular dating trends, I’m not so sure hiding what I feel from someone I’m falling for is the best course of action.
There’s no guarantees in life. Hell, Vivian is a good example of that. From the bits and pieces I’ve picked up over the years, I know she had at least two husbands before Rafe. And when you consider how many people she willed herself to forget, she could have had many, many more even she isn’t aware of.
“Yes, I’m ready,” Candy says, a wistfulness in her expression. “I’m willing to commit to the here and now and see where we go. I hold no illusions going in. If things don’t work out between you and me, or between the two of them and me, I’m pretty sure Vivian would wipe my mind of anything she didn’t want me to know.”
“Yeah. That’s probably exactly what would happen. But I’m just guessing.”
My girlfriend glances at me with a touch of incredulity in her eyes. “How do you know she hasn’t done the same thing to you over the years?”
I sit up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”
“You know, like if you acted against her wishes, or learned something you shouldn’t have. How do you know she hasn’t removed the memories or knowledge from your mind?”
I shrug. “If you want to get technical, you’re right, I don’t know for sure. How the hell could I? But I trust her. She made a promise to me years ago when we first arrived here, when I was still learning more about her and the inn. She assured me she would never steal from my mind. Never erase anything or force me to do something I didn’t want to.”
“And you trust she’s never done it?”
“That’s what being in a relationship means. Even a mostly platonic one, like ours. You have to trust the other person with parts of yourself that are vulnerable. Have faith they won’t abuse your conviction. And bottom line, I trust Viv and Rafe with my life.”
Candy nods, like she already guessed as much. “I understand. It makes sense. And logically, it’s the only way you can be with a vampire. Either you trust them, or you don’t.”
“So where do you stand? It seems pretty early for you to be making a decision this large.”
“I trust you, and you trust them. That’s good enough for me.”
I squeeze her hand while a light breeze ruffles the branches overhead. Aside from the mosquitos, otherwise jokingly called Alaska’s state bird, the inn and grounds are gorgeous in the summer, making it joy to be here.
“Now that that’s settled, what are you doing out here with all the dogs?”
“Remember that half-shift skill I learned from Magdalena?” She nods. “I’ve only been able to force my hand to half-change, but it doesn’t last long.”
“Do you want help from me?”
Surprise colors my response. “Why do you think you’d have to ask? I’m struggling to figure this shit out. And after a couple of hours of trying, I’m grateful for anything you’d care to share.”
A shy upturn of her lips appears on her radiant face. “Really?” At my nod, her smile grows. “Okay then. I wasn’t sure if my input would be welcome or if you’d be annoyed.”
/> “No ego here, babe. I’m clueless on how to harness this and after dozens of attempts, my brain—and body—feels like mush.”
“All right. Glad to hear it. You’ll be open to trying what I suggest if you’ve already exhausted other techniques. When I change into a new animal I’ve never tried before, I usually have to put more effort into it. But it’s not like it’s mentally or physically difficult, just that it requires more concentration.”
I nod to encourage her to keep going—the faster I learn this, the more help I’ll be to Vivian and Rafe when we leave to track down her turns.
“When you shift to a wolf,” she asks, “do you have to picture becoming a wolf in your mind?”
“No. It happens so fast there’s almost no thought or effort on my part. I’d call it almost instantaneous if that was possible.”
She nods, as if remembering my changes in her mind. “Instead of trying to halt your change mid-shift, have you tried visualization techniques of certain body parts? Like, stare at your hand and picture it exactly how you want it to look in this ‘half-form’ you’re aiming for.”
I stretch my neck from side to side, attempting to relax and ease my aching muscles. “If you think it’ll work, I’ll give it a try. How do I start?”
“Here,” she says, a gentle hand on my shoulder pushing me to lay back down on the ground. “Close your eyes for a moment.” I do as she says. “Picture the changed hand in your mind. Every detail.”
“Okay. Doing that.”
“Now tell me what you see.”
“My hand is over twice its normal size, reddish brown fur covers the back, with thick-knuckled fingers tipped in long, razor sharp claws, curling inward slightly at the ends.”
“Good,” she says, her voice softer and lower than before. “Now reach for the magic within your blood, not with your full attention, but rather like you’re taking an absent-minded sip of a very hot drink.”
My brows scrunch together in confusion, not quite liking her analogy of the drink, but I try nonetheless.
“Do you feel the spark within you, Jon?”
“It’s more of a raging fire, but I think I’ve got the gist of it.”
“Open your eyes and raise your arm ’til you can see your hand.”
I follow her directions, staring at my hand—which still looks like a hand, so far.
“Picture what you just described, Jon. Imagine your hand is exactly like you told me. Long, knobby fingers with ragged claws. Powerful hands strong enough to bend a rebar in half.”
I smile at her embellishments, but do as she instructs.
“Call that spark within you, press it toward your arm.”
Not quite sure of what she expects at this point, I try and picture a spark from that raging fire, and that I’d like it to go to my hand.
“Don’t give up, Jon. I can feel the magic inside you. It’s white hot and powerful.”
I overlay the desired hand image in my mind again and fur begins to sprout from my skin.
“You’re doing it, babe! I see hair growing.”
Next, my skin expands, feeling tight, almost like it’s swelling instantly from an injury or excessive fluids. And then the nails lengthen, sprouting from my fingertips like a special effect from a movie gone horribly wrong.
“Holy shit, I’m doing it.”
“Yes! I knew you could.”
My large werewolf hand looks odd attached to my regular arm, but I don’t care. I’m thrilled with the progress so far. “More. I need to do more.”
“Picture the change on your other hand, Jon. Let’s walk through this one body part at a time.” Her tone changes when she catches sight of my shaking hand. “How do you feel, are you tried or can you keep going?”
“Considering this is the best I’ve done all morning, you’re damn right we’re going to keep going.” I’ve got to master this skill. Before it’s too late.
CHAPTER TEN
ERIC
Alaska.
Its vast and glorious expanse spreads below the flying propeller plane. For our flight down to Fairbanks, Pat’s piloting under Drew’s watchful eye, and I don’t mind relaxing and enjoying the view one little bit.
If someone had told me years ago I’d wind up living here, I’d have laughed. Our dad was in the Air Force decades ago and we were stationed here for a short period of time—but my brothers and I were pre-school age and don’t remember any of it. Most of the old pictures from that time frame didn’t survive our numerous moves. But I’d always wanted to visit as an adult and see what the place was like.
Traveling from location to location with military parents seemed adventurous as a kid, but I often wondered if it was the military that ruined my parents’ marriage, or was it their unhappiness with each other, and their lives, that did it? Would we all still be together if my dad had stayed in past his last term?
I shake my head in the negative. I doubt it. It’s not easy to admit, but they were unhappy no matter where we lived, or who Brett worked for. Divorce was better all around. Although, I never forgave our mother for taking Justin and leaving. We always suspected she had a favorite out of the three of us, and that it was Justin, but having it proven by her actions really sucked.
Holidays just weren’t the same after they left. Not depressing or anything, more like we felt their missed presence at the dinner table and around the tree. But seeing our dad happy the rest of the time was worth it.
Whether my mom and Justin were in our lives or not, Asa and I probably would have joined the military anyway, as neither one of us had any clue what to “do” with our lives. Going to college without direction would have been a waste of time and money—money we didn’t have. And the idea of accumulating student loans when I didn’t know what I wanted to do seemed like a dumb idea.
Despite the sand pit of hell we were sent to fight in, being in the military wasn’t so bad. I learned a lot. Met people I’ll probably never see again. And I grew up. A smile creases my face as I recall being on leave and partying with Pat in the woods last fall back in West Milford.
The real mistake came when we tried to drunkenly save a mangy dog wandering the woods—we thought we’d get it back to its owners. Turned out not to be a lost dog, but a crazed werewolf intent on killing anything it encountered.
Later, we learned the attacking werewolf was visiting the area while on vacation with the rest of Romeo and Elsa’s pack. After we recovered from our injuries and understood what we’d become, Pat and I lived with Jon’s old alpha, up in Canada, for several months.
I run a finger over the wolf charm dangling from the paracord bracelet around my wrist, its camouflage coloring reminding me of my time in the Army. Elsa’s teenage nephew Jack made the bracelets for everyone in the Manitoba pack, and I’m glad I kept mine after we left. It’s a nice keepsake of the time I spent there. Living with a large and boisterous group like theirs had good points and bad points, that’s for sure.
Rampaging teenage hormones have nothing on a werewolf trying to find their mate. It was like a hedonistic horn-fest. I understand why Jon wanted to leave. It could be a bit much, even if you were okay with exchanging partners often. Although, I’m not really speaking from personal experience. Pat and I were shot down by the stuck-up bitches nine times out of ten. No one wanted a “puppy,” as they loved to call us.
While I might not have chosen this fate for myself, it sure as hell beats the alternative—which would have been dying in the forest that night from our extensive wounds.
I shake myself out of the old thoughts and keep my attention focused on the view. The next few hours fly by uneventfully, just like every other time. We land, visit the post office, collect what’s going to the resort, and load the large truck. After an early lunch at the closest restaurant, Pat and I return to the airstrip.
The gravel drive leading to the hangar lies bumpy and littered with potholes. Cursing, Pat swerves around the obstacles. I don’t know why, but I expected better of Fairbanks. Maybe because
it’s the closest thing to a real city up here. But the road conditions are par for the course with being out in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know how bush pilots land in “empty” fields, and I’m not looking forward to the landing lessons where Drew will force me to learn, either.
Pat parks the truck next to the plane and we unload the bins of mail to the hold. Looks like Diane has been shopping online again, she sure has a ton of boxes addressed to her with the Amazon smile on them. Flying down weekly is much easier now in the constant daylight, that’s for damn sure. I’m not looking forward to night landings and instrument flying, which we’ll be doing once the season change occurs.
Pat signals the all clear as far as packages, and parks the vehicle behind the hangar Viv and Rafe own. After checking the plane over, we climb inside, where Drew has been holed up since we landed.
“Took you guys long enough,” he says from the shaded back seat, where he’s covered head to toe in light-blocking fabric. It looks like he’s wearing a wet suit, truth be told, but what exactly the material is I have no idea. “And I smell cooked beef.”
“Keep your panties on, fanghead,” Pat says while climbing in. “Werewolves gotta eat, man.”
I smile, buckling myself in. “Yeah, and Diane did a ton of online buying again. Not our fault.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s get going. It’ll take us hours to fly back.”
“What’s the rush, old man?” Pat asks. “Got a hot date?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
I shake my head and begin the interior pre-flight check. Even though we landed recently, I know if I skip anything Drew will make me go back and start from the beginning anyway. Once I’m sure I’ve done everything, we’re ready to roll. “All done. Okay if I get this tin can in the air?”
“Don’t forget, radio your intentions to the main hangar and then contact our destination. You’ll be all set.”
“Check,” I say and make the requested calls. After both are done, I start the engine and the propeller begins to whir. One last look down the runway to ensure no other planes are coming or going, and I pull into position. I’ve only been flying for a few months, but no matter what, I always feel a thrill when we taxi down the runway.
Sharpen the Blade (The V V Inn Book 6) Page 9
