by T. S. Joyce
One look at Grey’s face, and he reassured him, “Morgan lives.”
Grey let out a long, shaky breath. “Where is she?”
“She is in the first cage. You can see her, but you can’t go in there right now.”
Wade squatted outside the bars of Morgan’s cage.
“What’s happened? Why aren’t you in there taking care of her?” Grey demanded.
Wade didn’t answer. He just stayed there, knelt by the cage bars, watching her.
Drenched in sweat, Morgan lay on a bare, blood-soaked mattress. He shook the lock, but the cage was secured. Her face was turned toward them, but she jerked it way and back again as if she were having a terrible nightmare.
Another ear-piercing scream ripped from her throat as she bowed against the mattress.
Grey threw his hands up, covered his oversensitive ears. “What’s wrong with her, Wade? Can’t you do anything?”
Wade rubbed a hand over his scarred face. “There’s nothing we can do now. We have to wait.” He watched Morgan thrash with a slight frown etched into his face. “You don’t remember your first Change?”
“She’s Changing?” Grey asked. “But mine happened over days. Is it normal for it to happen so fast? What if she is dying, not Changing?” he yelled, desperate. “We should be in there trying to save her!”
A bone chilling growl, long and low rippled through the air. It had come from Morgan’s drawn back lips.
Wade arched his eyebrow. “Yep, she’s definitely Changing. She’s the fastest one I’ve ever seen. She all but took my hand off before I realized what was happening, and I had to hightail it out of there and lock the door. We should leave her alone,” he said, standing.
“I’m not leaving her here alone,” Grey bit out.
Wade sighed impatiently. “It’s not for her. It’s for you. Anyone her wolf sees during this time, she isn’t going to associate with good memories after she comes to. She could hate you. Go take care of Lana. That’s the best thing you can do for her. We’ll check on her in the morning.”
Morgan groaned, a tortured sound, as she curled into herself and spasmed. Before he could change his mind, Grey took the stairs two at a time. He wouldn’t want anyone observing his first Changes. He supposed Wade was right. The best he could do was give her privacy.
“Shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he murmured to himself as he strode back across the yard toward the house. Everything had gone so wrong tonight. It had been so happy and easy and then Alexis had destroyed everything. She had destroyed Morgan. A werewolf. Fuck! He’d never wanted this for her. He should’ve been better. He should’ve protected her from Alexis better. No, he should’ve protected her from him and this awful life better. He should’ve never let her fall for him, never exposed her to the pack.
Lana had fallen asleep in Marissa’s arms by the time he walked back through the front door. She followed him to an upstairs bedroom, carrying the sleeping child. The room had a king-sized bed in it, and he tucked her in and told Marissa, “Thanks,” he said, “for everything tonight. You’re a tough girl.”
Marissa nodded shyly and left him without a word.
He watched Lana sleeping for a couple of minutes. Just stood there wondering how tonight would change the course of her entire life. How was he going to tell her what had happened? Someday, he would have to explain how her mother’s life had been ruined by a werewolf, and now Morgan’s had, too. He had just doused Lana’s life in the kerosene of a dangerous life by bringing her and Morgan here.
We’ll protect her, Wolf murmured.
“Yeah?” he asked out loud. “Like we protected Morgan.”
Wolf didn’t answer. There was a first.
Grey settled into a chair near the bed and stared at the full moon outside the open window. The cicadas were singing tonight, as usual, like the entire world hadn’t just rocked on its axis.
Morgan was a werewolf. A freaking werewolf.
Good, Wolf said.
“Fuck off, Monster,” Grey muttered, hating everything the animal stood for.
Someone’s coming.
Grey heard it, too—footsteps up the stairs. He stood as the bedroom door creaked open, and Wade poked his head in.
He’s too close to Lana. Kill him.
Grey ignored his inner asshole. He wasn’t helping anything. “Is she okay?” he whispered to Wade.
“Uuuuuh, kind of. Dean asked me to come get you. There’s something you need to see.”
Chapter Thirteen
Morgan had been trying to ignore the man who leaned against the wall opposite her cage, but her instincts wouldn’t let her lose sight of him for more than a couple seconds. Although he was familiar, the rage pulsing inside of her made it hard to think. She couldn’t even pinpoint why she was so pissed, or why a constant rumbling growl vibrated from deep in her chest. Or why she was already making plans that included maiming anyone who was stupid enough to unlock the door to her prison. Her body was sore, her throat hurt, and she desperately needed a drink of water.
Strips of fabric lay in shreds beside and under her, and her lip ached from catching it on a spring when she’d ripped the bare mattress in her holding cell to bits. The familiar man had come in shortly after her rampage and just stood there, watching her.
The way he stared, with his arms crossed and shaking his head every few minutes, he looked baffled. She wanted to bite him.
Above her, the air conditioning vent suddenly clicked on and kicked out cold air, and musky scent drifted to her. She lifted her head to test which direction it came from. She smelled fur.
She stood, but was wobbly, splaying her legs to keep from falling over. He body didn’t work right. The cage a few feet from hers lay empty. Cage number three held the source of the smell. A huge wolf sat two cages down, huddled against the furthest bars. Short, dark brown, blood-matted fur covered her legs and face. The longer hair on her body was lighter brown and matched her muddy brown eyes. She was mottled and ugly.
The bitter stink of fear wafted from the wolf and something inside of Morgan snapped. She went berserk, charging the cage and roaring. The smell was dizzying, enraging, consuming. She needed to kill the wolf. Face stuck as far as it would go through the bars, she gnashed her teeth. She knew the wolf.
Push as she might, the bars of the cage didn’t give a single inch, and Morgan collapsed suddenly onto the cold, concrete floor. What was wrong with her body? Why was she so exhausted and drained? Her muscles felt weak and her head swam, unable to land on a single steady thought. At a strange sound, she twitched her ears, and lips pulled back, she watched a door open.
The man who’d been watching her straightened to his full height. Dean. His named was Dean. A tall man with a scar down his face entered the room, and she remembered him too. Not his name, but she’d tried to bite him. She’d missed by centimeters. Next time she would try harder.
Behind him, another strode in, ducking the door frame, he was so tall. His chin-length hair twitched with his movement, and his bright gold eyes locked onto hers. Danger. Danger, danger, he felt like a giant. The room seemed to shrink around him. A rush of feeling and emotion she didn’t understand flooded her as she watched him. He stared at her, cocking his head to the side as he studied her. She might’ve known the man, but she hadn’t sorted out what he meant to her. Not yet. So, she pulled her lips back so he could see she wasn’t weaponless, and growled a soft warning.
He was lean and strong looking, with eyes that glowed unnaturally over his high, angled cheekbones. Wolf eyes on a man’s face. God, he was handsome. Dangerous, but hard to look away from. How could a creature feel so big? How could he fill every air molecule with his presence? It was getting hard to breathe.
She turned her back to them to search for a hiding place while they talked in hushed voices. Laying behind a piece of shredded mattress large enough to cover most of herself, she left only tail and back legs exposed to their stares.
A deep voice sounded, and she jerked her head up, ears
alert. Wolf-Eyes spoke quietly to Scar Face.
“She’s beautiful,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like her.”
“No one has seen anything like her for hundreds of years,” Scar Face drawled slowly. “She’s a Silver Wolf.”
Wolf Eyes frowned and muttered, “I don’t know what that means.” He drew nearer to her cage, knelt down in front of the bars. God, he felt so big. So big and so powerful. “Morgan? Are you okay?”
She tried to look bored, and sighed heavily. He wrapped his fingers around one of the bars and leaned his face toward her. There. That’s what she’d waited for. She lunged, but he drew back just as she snapped at the bar. Damn, he was fast. He shouldn’t have been able to move in time. Do it again. Give me another shot to hurt you.
A whine sounded from the ugly wolf a couple cages down. Wolf-Eyes snapped his attention to her, and a wave of rage washed across his face.
“What the hell is she doing here?” he snarled.
His wave of anger thickened the air even more, and as Morgan backed slowly away from him, Scarface answered. “It’s the only thing we can do with her right now. Everyone is safest while she is in the cage, including herself.”
“You put Alexis in the same room with Morgan? Are you fucking serious? You’re protecting her after what she did?” he demanded, voice rising in anger. Every word had the power of a detonating grenade. He brushed past the other two men, shaking with fury and stood in front of the cage occupied by the other wolf. Wolf Eyes glared at the ugly brown wolf and she huddled with her head down in the back of the cage.
Huh. Okay maybe she liked Wolf Eyes after all. The enemy of an enemy was a friend and all. She lolled her tongue out the side of her mouth in a wolfy grin as the she-wolf cowered under Wolf Eyes’ glare. This was awesome. If Morgan couldn’t reach him, she could make a wish on a star that the hot giant would kill the wolf. Alexis. Yeah, that was her name.
“Where’s the water,” Wolf Eyes growled as he headed for Morgan’s cage again. “Morgan is thirsty.”
“I don’t know if it is such a good idea for you to get that close to her cage again,” said Scar Face, taking a step toward him.
Wolf Eyes turned around. “Wade, don’t fuck with me. I’m doing my best not to go after Alexis right now, I need to take care of Morgan.”
Scar Face Wade ducked his gaze and stank of fear. Even the quiet man in the back, Dean, lowered his gaze.
Huffing an explosive sigh, Wolf Eyes clenched his hands, and then held them out, palms up. “I’m sorry,” he said in a gentler tone. “This is hard for me. Be patient with me.”
Wade nodded and pointed toward a sink at the far end of the room. Wolf Eyes filled a bucket with water and hoisted it to her cage. There was a built-in water bowl in the front corner. He was either very brave or very stupid to get so close to her again, but she stayed in place. Her gift for him terrorizing the ugly she-wolf. That had been pretty damn entertaining.
“What happened to her face?” he asked as he finished pouring the water.
“She cut it tearing up the mattress, I think,” Wade replied softly.
Wolf Eyes leaned his forehead on an arm draped over the bars of her cage. The corners of his eyes tightened slightly as he searched her face. She cocked her head. What did he want from her?
Something unreadable washed across his face. Anger? Sadness? Regret? Perhaps all three. He turned, and, as suddenly as he’d come, he left.
Wade and Dean followed him out, but she didn’t care about them. She cared about Wolf Eyes. His leaving hollowed out her insides, and she didn’t understand why. She didn’t want him to leave her alone.
She paced the cage as claustrophobia began to settle over her bones. With a pause, she listened for him to come back but was rewarded only with the sound of the ugly she-wolf’s rapid breathing.
No, no, no, don’t leave me in here. Not like this.
She looked frantically around at the unforgiving metal bars of her prison and it was all too much. Too much confusion, too much confinement, too much ache in her body and her heart.
Tossing her head back, a howl of mourning ripped from her.
Chapter Fourteen
When Morgan’s howl tore through the barn and filled the night sky, it was all Grey could do to keep walking and not rush back to her. His guts were being ripped out. How could she not have recognized him? He tensed every muscle against the pain. He couldn’t lose it in front of Dean and Wade.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong with her?” he asked. “Even during my first Change I knew who I was. Does she blame me? Is that why she tried to attack me?”
They stopped under a huge cottonwood tree off the dirt road leading from the barn to the main house.
“Grey, we need to talk,” Dean said low.
Those words created such a snaking fear in his gut.
“Did you see her coloring?” Wade asked.
“Yeah, she was white. I mean, not the dirty blond kind of white, but like snow. And her eyes...I’ve never seen eyes like that.” Purple. A pale and unsettling light violet. “What does it mean?”
“You’re still new to this life, and haven’t been around many werewolves. White is a natural color for gray wolves out in the wild but not for a werewolf. There are no white werewolves. Well, I guess now there’s one,” Dean corrected himself with a half-smile and another shake of his head. “Legends about a Silver Wolf Clan riddle our history from a century ago. They describe wolves that looked like Morgan does. I think she’s special, Grey.”
Okay, so she was special. That much was obvious from the first moment he’d seen her.
Wade bit his bottom lip and stared off into the dark. “Who do we tell about this? Do we notify the Old Ones or tell the other packs?”
Grey dipped his chin and arched his eyebrows. “Uuuh, who are the Old Ones, and why would we need to tell them about Morgan?”
Wade leaned against the trunk of the old tree. “The Old Ones are a council of five older werewolves, chosen by the packs to handle justice and make sure werewolf tradition and secrecy is upheld. They’re the ones who hold Summit every year. What do you think, Dean? Do we need to tell them right away?”
Dean frowned. “What if she’s a breeder?”
A loaded look passed between the two men.
Fists clenched against the urge to deck one of them, Grey said, “Breeder. What does that mean? Just fuckin’ tell me what’s going on.”
“Grey, I don’t think you should talk to anyone about Morgan until we’ve figured things out. I have a library of werewolf history in my office. We can start there. Try to learn about what is happening to her, but until we figure out what we want to tell people and call a pack meeting, don’t say anything about her color. We have to keep her safe. Do you get what we’re saying to you?”
Fuck you and your family, and your pack, and your pet turtle, and these trees, and your shoes, and your face, Wolf snarled inside of him. We know how to keep her safe.
Instead of repeating Wolf’s psychobabble, Grey decided to nod instead and make his way behind Dean and Wade toward the house.
Over the tree line, the first rays of sunlight were brushing the horizon. And when they walked through the front door, the smell of bacon and biscuits filled the entire house. Rachel was doing her thing in the kitchen, trying to fix a mood with food. It was her way.
Lana sat on the counter, playing with a spice rack. She wore one of Rachel’s extra aprons over her pajamas. It swallowed her, but the girl didn’t seem to mind. Cartoons danced across the television screen and Marissa lay snuggled up on the couch with a down blanket draped over her.
Grey picked Lana up and tossed her in the air. “How’s my girl this morning, huh?”
She giggled then turned a serious expression on him. “Where’s Morgan?”
“Morgan’s out for a little while, but she’ll be back soon. She’s sick, but already getting better. Everything’s going be okay,” he said. If only he felt as confident as he’d sounded.<
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The rest of the wolves trickled in, probably attracted to the smell of bacon grease. The fastest way to gather a pack was to stick food on a table. As Grey poured orange juice into glasses, Logan cleared his throat behind him. He and Brandon stood in front of the refrigerator, fidgeting, staring at the ground as if the grout between the tiles was the most interesting thing they’d seen in their lives.
“Look, we messed up, man,” Logan said. “We wouldn’t have ever attacked Morgan if we were in our right minds. The blood…we’re really fuckin’ sorry.”
Even if the attack were still fresh and infuriating, he of all people knew how impossible pulling away from a kill was. “Don’t worry about it. This is all on Alexis,” he said.
Lana sat in his lap during breakfast. She probably felt clingy and insecure because Morgan wasn’t around, but that was just fine by him. He needed to be close to her too. As soon as everyone had seated themselves, Brandon asked if Morgan was okay. Grey pursed his lips and let Dean handle it. God, he felt like death warmed over. All he wanted to do was go back to Morgan, and snuggle Lana, and sleep, and heal, and he couldn’t get Wolf to be quiet so his head was a mess.
“She’s doing well. She’s already Changed,” Dean said, tossing Grey a significant look.
Well, being turned into a werewolf was better than death, he guessed.
Dean set his fork onto his plate with a clink and settled his elbows on the table, clenched his hands in front of his face. “That being said, no one is to go into the cage room or around the barn. There’re complications, and you’ll see her again when she’s ready. She doesn’t seem like she’s in any hurry to Change back, so she needs space to deal with all of this.” He looked his pack each in the face and murmured, “That’s an order.”
The pack headed out after breakfast. The fight was over, the chaos stilled, and there was nothing they could do for Morgan, so they headed back to their own lives outside of pack property.
