Behind the Beginning (Becoming the Wolf Book 1)
Page 11
“I have to Change,” Grey said as he laid a napkin over his empty plate.
Dean frowned. “You just Changed yesterday.”
Grey’s fingertips brushed Morgan’s back gently. To the alpha at the head of the table, he said, “I had to stop a Change today in my apartment.”
Dean gave a sympathetic curse under his breath. “That sucks. I can’t name anything that hurts more. Do you want some company?”
“Wouldn’t suck,” Grey said, his eyes narrowing on Logan.
Logan’s eyes shifted to a light gray, unnatural color.
A low rumble escaped Grey’s throat, and he leaned forward. “I’m hurting, but not that bad.” He sounded more demon than man. “Challenge me, and I’ll lay you out.”
Logan suddenly became very busy staring at the table. “I wasn’t going to challenge you, man. My wolf might have a death wish but I don’t, and I’m the one in control.”
Morgan rested her hand on his thigh, and slowly, Grey relaxed back into the chair.
With the clatter of empty spoons on empty dishes, Marissa took Lana to her room to play. Rachel said she preferred not to Change with the pack unless it was a full moon hunt.
The rest of the pack made their way outside, and something struck Morgan.
She would never Change with them. Never run with them. Never be one of them.
Never belong.
She would always be the one to wait patiently for the wolves to turn back into her friends. Was she the lucky one, or they?
Out the front window, she watched the others chattering and rough housing as they made their way toward the woods to Change. Why did she feel so hollow, standing here all alone? Changes looked painful. She should be grateful that pain didn’t taint her life, but look at them. They were smiling and talking and looked…excited.
The pack disappeared into the dark, but Grey lingered, glancing back at her. She waved, and from right on the edge of the halo of porch light, she could see him smile. He really wanted to marry her someday. The thought left her heart fluttering. Mom had always said when she met the right man, she would just know. Until now, Morgan had thought that was silly. Not anymore. She knew.
Grey was it for her.
Marissa and Lana played and giggled from above, and in an effort not to interrupt their games, she checked out the office on the main floor instead. One step inside and she gasped. Filled bookshelves lined the walls. She padded over to the first shelf and read the title of the biggest book out loud. “Legend of the Wolf Man.” If ever she had questions about werewolf folklore, here was the place to start.
She read the first few pages, but it was in rough cursive written in splotchy ink, and difficult to understand, so she replaced the book on the shelf and made her way back into the living room. Where was Rachel? She felt so strange being in this house by herself. Upstairs, Marissa and Lana were giggling, and it drew a smile from Morgan’s lips.
With nothing better to do, she made her way out to the front porch to wait for Grey and the others. The porch swing creaked lazily under her, and she covered her legs with a blanket she found tossed over the back of it. Grey had shifted to an in-between creature right in front of her. His hands had clawed, and his bones had broken. She would never forget that sound, or the noises he made. Pained noises that ripped at her heart and made her wish she could be the one to Change just to take his pain away. That was love.
His teeth had sharpened, and black fur had appeared and disappeared all over his skin, and now she wanted to see him fully Changed. She wanted to see the black wolf he had been hiding from her.
At a noise, she stopped swinging and leaned forward, arms locked against the seat. The wolves yipped and barked nearby. Almost finished then.
A shadow moved in the dark. A dark wolf stared back through the haze of the late evening hour. Grey. She smiled and waved two fingers. Maybe if she saw them often enough, she would be able to tell each wolf by the color of their coat.
The wolf paced closer, relaxed, climbed the porch stairs slowly, with his tongue lolled out to the side. His tail wagged.
Grey, Grey, Grey. She was finally seeing the other side of Grey.
She should tell him she loved him now. While he was the wolf. So he would be secure in the knowledge that she accepted all of him.
But as she parted her lips to utter the words, the wolf lunged.
Chapter Twelve
That scream.
Grey perked his ears up as he trotted through the last layer of brambles before he got to the clearing of Dean’s house.
He knew that scream.
The exact pitch and tenor of the cry still haunted his nightmares.
Morgan.
Grey tore out at a dead run through the backyard. The others trailed behind him naturally. Time dragged, and he pushed his legs in a burst that threw him in front of the porch. The stink of violence, blood, and fear assaulted every sense. He skidded to a halt, horror raising his hackles rise.
Alexis had found Morgan, and what he saw was worse than any nightmare he could ever have.
Alexis’s mottled brown wolf was ripping into Morgan’s leg. Morgan was fighting back hard, kicking, and hitting her, but Alexis held on with single-minded tenacity. Blood was painting the porch.
Alexis was fucking dead. Everything was painted in hues of red as Grey bolted forward, and latched onto the back of Alexis’s exposed neck. He threw her so hard, she flew off the porch and slammed into the side of his truck. Her limp body fell into a puddle of slick mud. She deserved to die like that.
Morgan was panting so fast, her chest rising and falling in gasps, she would pass out soon. He put his body between hers and the wolves climbing the porch stairs toward them. A glance at her leg, and there were huge gashes, and her leg was pouring blood. Strips of her jeans hung from her in bloody tendrils. Alexis had gone straight for the artery, cheating Morgan out of a clean death. She looked right into his eyes, her pupils dilated with panic. “Help me,” she gasped.
Blood everywhere, and the smell soaked into everything. The wolves were at the top of the stairs now, their eyes vacant as they inched forward, their attention pinpointed on her bleeding leg. No matter how loudly Grey snarled his warning, the bloodlust didn’t leave their hollowed expressions. Fuckin’ zombies right now. Fine. He would kill them all.
Closer and closer they came, some on their bellies, others pacing nervously. He pulled his lips away from his teeth, and backed up until he stood over her body. Mine. And if you want her, you’ll have to take her from me.
Logan reached them first. His dark gray and white wolf went for Morgan’s leg. Grey lunged forward and clamped down on his muzzle, ready to break it and suffocate him, but there wasn’t enough time before the others came for Morgan. He threw him to the side to buy him time to stop Jason’s wolf from reaching Morgan. He latched onto his neck and shook him as hard as he could, snarling loud so he would be the last thing Jason ever heard. Time didn’t mean much after that. Grey went on autopilot, fighting them as they came, existing on instinct, maiming any who came close. The night air filled with the sound of growling fury, and yips of pain.
There was a break in the attack, and then Grey fought Logan and then Brandon, and Alexis had apparently recovered enough to join the fight. Good. He wanted her to die slower anyway. She leapt over the porch railing and landed on Morgan, but before Grey could reach her, something hit her hard and she flew sideways. She smashed right through the porch railing, and yelped loud enough to echo.
Beside Morgan, Dean stood there with a huge stick, his face twisted in fury. “Get back!” Dean bellowed. The crack of power in his voice ricocheted off the trees. “Go Change. Now!”
The wolves retreated immediately, slinking away into the shadows with their tails tucked between their legs.
Everything was still red, and rage pounded through Grey’s veins with every beat of his pounding heart. Dean was too close. Everyone had been too close. He needed…he needed…
To kill.
“Grey, we need to take her in. We have to try to save her. We’ll do everything we can for her. Please!” Dean pleaded.
Morgan, Morgan, Morgan. His Morgan. She was dimming by the moment; he could feel her fading. The thick iron scent of her blood tainted the air until it was all he could smell. She’d lost so much, and still he couldn’t drag himself from her.
In the window above, Lana whimpered and asked Marissa what was wrong. She was scared.
Think, Grey, think.
They had to try and save her. Everything good in his life depended on his ability to let them try. Closing his eyes so tightly, he backed away slowly. Why did it burn so bad to put space between them right now? Leave. Leave her. Leave so they can try to save her.
Desperate to fight all of his instincts, he spun and ran for the woods. He couldn’t look back—couldn’t see her limp body or empty eyes or the river of blood flowing across the porch. A whine crawled up the back of his throat and he paced the outskirts of the yard. He needed Lana. Needed to hold her and cry with her, tell her everything was going to be okay and pretend it was true.
The wait for the Change back to his human skin was excruciating. Nothing was happening. He tried again with the same results and roared in frustration, over and over until his voice turned into the agonized howls of a wolf who had lost its reason for existence.
Exhausted and lost, he laid there looking up at the moon. We should’ve never brought her here, Grey whispered in the back of Wolf’s mind.
His guilt was what began the agonizing Change. The pain was welcome. Anything to escape the bottomless anguish of regret for even a moment.
He rushed to the truck, stumbling on legs that didn’t want to work right. He had a change of clothes in the truck, but he dressed in a daze, unaware of what he even put on. He was still pulling his shirt over his head when he walked through that front door. Rachel rushed to him with tear-filled eyes.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“Grey, you’re bleeding really bad. We need to have Wade look at that after he’s done with Morgan—”
“Is she alive?”
He hadn’t meant to scare her with the growl in his words, but Rachel crouched to the floor in terror. “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so.” God, the honesty in her voice gutted him. “Grey, you have to give them space and time with her. Wade is a good healer, but he won’t be able to work with you around. His wolf will want to protect his neck. I know it’s hard, but you have to give them space. For Morgan.”
Despair washed over him. His eyes burned and he clenched his hands until his blunt nails dug into his palm. Hoarsely, he asked, “Where’s Lana?”
“She’s upstairs with Marissa, getting a bath. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. Grey?” Rachel paused, still crouched on the floor. “What can I do?”
“I just want my kid,” he said, voice cracking. He swayed on his feet. Dammit, his side was throbbing and he was getting lightheaded. He looked down to find a dark wet spot spreading across his shirt. “Which bedroom?”
“The second one on the left has a big enough bed for both of you,” she murmured.
Brandon threw Grey a first aid kit as he headed for the stairs. He needed to find a bathroom to clean himself up before he passed out.
He’d never been on the second floor before because he’d never had a reason to stay the night. He tried three doors before he found the bathroom. Lana sat in a bubble filled bathtub while Marissa sat on the ledge reading from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Marissa looked up with frightened, wide eyes. She slammed the book closed and stood.
He was about to back out of the room when she said, “I’m sorry about Morgan, Mr. Crawford. I hope she’ll be alright.” This was the first time she had ever talked to him before without him dragging the words out of her.
“Thank you, Marissa.” Gesturing to Lana, he asked, “How are you holding up, kiddo?”
Lana nodded, and blinked slowly with those big, solemn gray eyes. “I want to go home.”
“You and me both, but tonight we’re going to stay here, okay?”
“Where’s Morgan?” she asked.
“She’s taking a little break so it’ll just be us for a while, okay?”
Lana nodded. “Okay.”
Marissa led him around the corner to a vanity with double sinks and lowered her voice. “She doesn’t know what’s happening. She’s scared and confused but she’s okay.” Her voice held less of a tremor and she looked him in the eyes for the first time that he could remember.
He probably didn’t appear very threatening at the moment. Passing out right here on the tile floor was becoming a legitimate possibility, and Wolf had holed up deep inside, mourning. The animal side of him was no help right now. His eyes were probably bluer than she’d ever seen them. Swaying on his feet, he pulled up the edge of his shirt and squeezed his eyes closed at the sight of the foot-long gash across his ribs.
“Oh my gosh, that’s a lot of blood,” Marissa said in horror. “I can see bone. Do you need help?”
He pitched forward unsteadily, and she reached out, but didn’t touch him. Grey leaned onto the cold marble sink and the pit pat of red against the hard floor quickened. When had this stupid gash happened, and who’d done it? The small first aid kit sitting on the counter wasn’t going to be enough.
“Do you want me to go get Wade?” she asked. “He’s the pack doctor, and he’s good with this kind of stuff.”
Grey shook his head weakly. Wade needed to stay with Morgan. Marissa stood there for a moment, shifting her weight from side to side. And then she let out the tiniest growl, like a pissed off kitten, pulled wads of gauze from the first aid kit and pushed it onto his side. The pain made him wince and inhale sharply through clenched teeth.
“Hold that there, tightly,” she told him then left the room. Just…boom, vanished.
She returned a few minutes later holding an armload of medical supplies. Grey leaned heavily against the wall.
“Rachel!” she called. “Can you help us with Lana?”
Rachel’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
“You don’t mind crooked stitches, do you, Mr. Crawford?” Marissa asked.
“Are you going to be the one doing the stitching?”
“Yes, sir, if it’s okay. You heal fast thanks to your wolf, but you can’t stay open like this, and…well…I don’t mind blood.” Her last words sounded haunted and quiet.
He grunted and lifted his arm so she could get a better angle at the seeping wound. Sure as hell, he couldn’t stitch it on his own with one left hand, so why not?
She flushed it out with a saline solution, and had trouble holding his slick, blood-soaked skin together. So, she stuck butterfly bandages in place every couple of inches and stitched toward them, removing the tape as she reached each one. The stitches weren’t pretty or professional, but she told Grey she’d seen Wade stitch up enough wolves over the past couple years, she at least had an idea how to do it. He would scar, but fuck it. Nothing really mattered right now.
Rachel dressed Lana in one of Marissa’s smallest t-shirts, and took her downstairs for a drink of milk and to watch television. Probably best, until he was more presentable and less gory.
“When I was down getting supplies from Wade, I saw Morgan,” Marissa whispered. She finished bandaging him and backed into the corner of the bathroom, far away from him again.
Wolf stirred at the sound of his mate’s name. “I don’t understand. Is she alive?”
“When I was there, yes. It looked like her body was already trying to heal itself. She’ll always be scarred, but the bleeding stopped and she was thrashing around pretty good.”
“Wait, what does that mean? She’s healing? I felt her dying. There is no way she could have survived losing so much blood.”
> “She can if she is a wolf, Mr. Crawford. Hopefully she can Change—”
He’d jumped up before Marissa had finished her sentence, and bolted from the bathroom. “Where is she?” he asked, sticking his head back into the doorway.
“The cages,” she responded.
“What cages? Where?”
She tossed the blood-soaked gauze into a small trashcan, and told him, “Down underneath the barn.”
He bolted down the stairs and out the front door. The pain in his side eased with the adrenaline rush. Please, please, please let her be alive.
And then he heard it again—his least favorite sound in the world—Morgan’s scream. It was muffled and came from the direction of an old barn on the edge of the clearing.
He stuck his head inside the drafty wooden walls and scanned the outbuilding for a secret entrance, sniffed the air. A trail frequented by members of the pack wound to a wall but dead ended. It had to be some sort of panel because the scent ended here.
Poking, pushing, he searched for any kind of latch or release mechanism. Nothing. He stood back and studied the edges. There, at the bottom, there was a hole wide enough to get a foot or hand under. It looked like a rat hole, but it was worth a try. He put the toe of his shoe into it, hoping no rodent was home, and pushed down. Nothing happened. He pulled up with his shoe and a latch on the inside shifted. Click. The wall rotated at an angle, far enough for him to see a narrow stairway.
A short sprint down the stairs brought him face to face with Dean headed in the opposite direction at the bottom. He looked up, apparently startled to see anyone rocketing down the stairs and barreling toward him.