But I didn’t have a clue how to get into wolf form again. I clenched my eyes shut and tried to remember the feeling from the night before.
God, it had only been the night before when I had first changed into a wolf for the first time.
“No, no,” Matt said, derision still in his tone. “It’s all right, we’ll all just wait while you figure it out.”
I didn’t open my eyes, didn’t look at him.
Dammit. How the hell do I do this?
The pack was quiet, but I could feel the tension in the air.
“Like your dream,” Jonathan whispered.
In those silly dreams I had before I was attacked, I simply had to stop fighting the change to make the change happen. Okay. So I just had to let go.
I took a deep breath and just envisioned letting go of my need to walk upright. My gut wrenched hard, driving me to the ground as I cried out. I pushed harder on the sensation, trying to push myself into the wolf and trying to let go of my human form. I was a werewolf. That meant I needed to be a wolf sometimes. My gut wrenched again and my joints ached, causing me to cry out again.
But I wasn’t wolf. Not yet. And after the wrench passed, my too tight skin tingled with the want for a different shape, and there was a lump in my throat. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I wasn’t sure how to get any closer to wolf by myself.
A warm hand fell on the back of my head.
“You can do it,” came Sheppard’s quiet voice, his power washing over me. “Don’t think so hard about it. Just be. Sarcina eiusdem sanguinis.”
Stop thinking. Matt had said the same.
I took a gulping breath and...let go. I just stopped trying any of it. I decided I needed to be wolf and my body did the rest. With the same sharp, breaking pain as before, my body rearranged itself to accommodate my new form.
I shook when it was done and snorted out the last of the ache from my nose.
Werewolves are big. I hadn’t realized that during our run on the reserve. I estimated my chin to be just above Matt’s waistline.
“Well?” Matt said.
I lunged for his face, but he caught my head in two meaty hands. Launching off his chest, I propelled myself backward with all four paws, wrenching my face from his grasp.
“Good instincts, but that won’t work,” Matt chided me. “I could have snapped your neck there, and any vamp would be glad for the opportunity. You’re dead.” He pulled a knife from his belt. “Vamps usually have knives, big ones—some even carry swords. They get a good, solid hit to your spinal column and you’re done. Try again.”
Well, shit. Alright. I darted to his right, drawing his attention like I was going for his knife hand. As soon as he stepped that direction, I cut left and opened my jaws to grip his leg, catching meat and bone below his knee as I pulled his leg out from under him with all my strength. The flesh tore easily, his blood flowing into my mouth as the pressure crunched through bone.
Matt shouted in pain through clenched teeth. The strands I had seen of the pack lit up like fireworks behind my eyes and I let go.
I had hurt pack.
Gravity continued the motion I had started with Matt, pulling him to the ground.
I hadn’t ever had anything’s blood in my mouth but my own, let alone another person’s. I didn’t even like my steaks all that rare. It was disconcerting.
The pack was laughing, but Matt was clearly hurt. With a whine, I planted my butt on the ground as Kaylah hurried over to examine Matt’s leg.
He ignored her and smiled at me.
Why was he smiling?
“Good job,” he said. There wasn’t any pain in his voice, and the approval in his tone spread warmth through me. “That worked because I thought you were going for the knife.”
“Geez, Matt,” Jonathan called. “If I knew that was all it took to take you down—”
Matt didn’t look away from me; he just held up a fist in Jonathan’s direction, middle finger extended as he kept talking.
“You should always disarm a vamp when you have the opportunity to, but your speed at pulling me to the ground worked too.” He made a sour face as Kaylah moved his foot, squeezing his clouded eye shut. “You can overpower them once they’re down, so use what works for you. Speed is good.”
Kaylah’s fingers pressed along Matt’s shin. “Fibula’s fractured, but reset. Muscle’s torn, but healin’. You’ll be fine by dinner.”
Fine by dinner. His leg was broken, but he’d be fine by dinner. Jonathan hadn’t been kidding when he said we were damn near bulletproof. I stared at Matt’s leg, which had already stopped bleeding.
“And don’t let go once they’re on the ground,” Matt continued, shaking a finger at me. “A vamp won’t stop trying to kill you just because they’re down. They know you’re there to end them. So end them.”
He looked over his shoulder to Sheppard.
“She’s fast enough that vamps’ll have a hard time getting their hands on her,” he said. “She’s scrappy enough to keep fighting after a couple of good hits. She’s not all that strong on two legs, but as long as you don’t leave her out on her own, she’ll be fine in a fight.”
He looked back at me as Kaylah pulled him to his feet.
“Good job,” he said. “Now get your clothes back on.”
I eyed my pile of clothes and huffed. Being wolf felt good. This form was comfortable and wild and safe. Four legs are much more balanced than two—it’s no wonder I took Matt to the ground so easily.
“C’mon, hun,” Kaylah said, her fingers brushing my head. “You got a lifetime to enjoy bein’ fuzzy. The sooner you come back to us, the quicker we can eat.” She winked at me.
My stomach rumbled at the thought of food. We hadn’t actually eaten anything since breakfast. I felt like I could eat a whole cow, now that she mentioned it.
Well, I wasn’t going to do it in this form. Thumbs are supremely helpful for manipulating utensils. So I tried to reverse the process. I decided it was time to be human again and just...let go.
Sharp breaking pain heralded my return to humanity. With a yelp, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breath through the change. It hurt. God, it hurt. But I could endure it. And when I was human again, I hurriedly pulled my underwear and pants back on, checking to be sure the rosary hadn’t fallen out of the pocket. I hooked my bra behind my back again and pulled my shirt over my head. I didn’t bother with my shoes.
“Sorry about your leg, Matt,” I said lamely.
He looked at me then, his expression uncomfortably gentle despite the nasty scar. “I signed up for that.” He threw an arm over my shoulder. “And I underestimated you.”
We headed back toward the house. He limped mildly on his hurt leg, and I saw him wince out of the corner of my eye once.
Most of the pack had already filtered back into the house, but Jonathan came into my field of vision, the football from Sheppard’s old house in hand.
He smiled at me and waved the ball. “Wanna play?”
TWENTY-ONE
THE PACK FILTERED BACK out the door they had just gone into, expressions eager. Ball was apparently what they called the game of catch and tackle that I saw the day I met them. I shook my head at the realization that it had only been three days since then. It certainly felt like longer, and the pack played the game with me like I had always been there.
Because of this, I learned some interesting things. For one, Matt actually played the game, despite limping on his hurt leg; though as the game progressed, he limped less. For two, the pack was conscientious of Matt’s injury without babying him about it—we tossed him the ball if he was open, and we tackled him from the other side to avoid landing on his hurt leg. Beyond that, Chastity never hesitated to try to take me or anyone else to the ground if she was closest—even if that person was Sheppard. Daniel was more calculating, preferring to watch when the ball was likely to land in someone’s hands before making the move to tackle them. And Jonathan? Well, Jonathan liked to take more than one o
f us down at a time, so that we all had to scramble to untangle ourselves before we could get back upright. I had to admit, it was pretty funny, and the weight and warmth of my packmates in a dogpile was more comfortable than I thought it would be. Kaylah was quick to help me up if I went down, as was Ian. Jamie preferred to not have the ball at all, getting rid of it quickly so as not to get tackled. Sheppard was an equal opportunity player: if one of us hadn’t had the ball for a while, or hadn’t been tackled, he was sure to send the ball our way.
Most interesting to me, however, was that most of the pack had trouble getting me down before I was rid of the ball, not for lack of trying—I was simply able to dodge them better than I expected. Except Sheppard, of course. If I hesitated to throw the ball, he was usually the one who took me down.
The game was over relatively quickly as a collective rumble of stomachs asserted their need for sustenance. Warm and sweaty, despite the chill of late autumn, we flowed into the house. Kaylah and Chastity stopped to wash their hands before Kaylah pulled huge packages of lunchmeat out of the fridge and brought them to the hulking granite table on a platter. Chastity followed with three loaves of sliced bread and placed them next to the platter of lunchmeat. It was the fancy kind of bread that comes shrink-wrapped in the bag. The kind I had only hoped to one day afford because surely the double wrapping meant it tasted better. We had our choice between white, whole wheat, and rye bread.
Fancy.
Sheppard sat at the head of the table, and Matt had taken up the spot to his right, though there were seats open to his left. I moved around behind Sheppard to grab one of those seats, and Jonathan followed. Ian, Jamie, and Daniel sat toward the other end of the table, leaving the two seats closest to the kitchen open for Chastity and Kaylah, who brought the condiments and plates, respectively.
Kaylah looked around the table then at the rest of us, placing a fist on her hip. “Nuh uh.” She shook her head. “Not a one a ya washed yer hands afore comin’ to the table.” She looked at each of us in turn, her crystal blue eyes hard.
“Aw,” Jamie said, his shoulders slumping. “Come on Kaylah! You know germs don’t bother us anyway.” He spread his hands, palms up toward her. “What’s the point?”
“Nuh uh,” she said, shaking her head. “Th’ point is, yer all dirty ‘n’ sweaty from playin’ outside. Th’ least yuh c’n do is wash yer dang hands afore you go gettin’ yer mess all over each other’s’ bread ‘n’ lunchmeat. It’s jus’ polite!”
“Dirty food spoils quicker,” Chastity added, pointer finger in the air.
“So, ya know th’ drill,” Kaylah said, hooking a thumb over her shoulder. “Git!”
At that, everyone scattered to do as she said.
When we returned to the table, Chastity had already taken her seat, her hands neatly folded in her lap. Kaylah came around behind us, placing round white plates in front of everyone. Sheppard unwrapped the lunchmeat: ham, roast beef, turkey, salami, and prosciutto, and Matt opened the loaf of rye bread. I grabbed the loaf of white, opening it and placing six slices of bread on my plate before passing the loaf to Jonathan.
I used to be the sort who would only eat one sandwich, but I could apparently pack it away like a champ these days. And I was positively starving. The smell of the lunchmeat had my mouth watering more than I felt was appropriate, but I kept swallowing it down until I could manage to get my sandwiches together.
Matt passed a handful of slices of rye bread to Sheppard, before pulling a handful more for himself and returning the bag to the middle of the table. Between the two of them, the loaf was half gone already. Sheppard then placed a little bit of each meat on top of three of his slices, and when Matt did the same, it triggered a tangle of limbs across the table as the pack reached for bread, condiments, and meat.
Sitting closer to Sheppard—and therefore the pile of lunchmeat—I managed to get to the roast beef and turkey while there was still plenty, piling slices on top of three pieces of bread, topped with mayo. I mushed another slice on top of each, grabbed one of my completed sandwiches, and took a bite. It was gone in just five. Wow.
Jonathan elbowed me gently. There was mirth in his eyes as he held up his sandwich—white bread with lots of ham. A mix of mustard and mayonnaise dripped from a corner and onto his plate. “This lunchmeat is much more appetizing than you were when you came in.”
He was referring to me being lunchmeat after the crazed wolf attacked me?
I squinted my eyes and brushed my shoulder against him, a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. “It’s not like you tasted me then, so how would you know?” I locked eyes with him and took a bite from my second sandwich.
“She’s got you there.” Ian took a swig from the water bottle in his hand. His sapphire eyes glittered.
Jonathan laughed, setting my stupid heart to singing again, and tipped his water bottle toward me. “Touché.”
The rest of the pack smiled too, and the comfort of their presence was almost tangible around the black granite table.
“You’re pretty quick, Lynn,” Chastity said between bites of her own sandwich of turkey and roast beef on wheat bread. “Have you always been light on your feet?”
I guess I had been fast. I certainly hadn’t expected to get inside Matt’s guard, and that I’d actually hurt him? It seemed impossible. And though I had been a less than ideal player the first time I played ball with the pack, this time, I had held my own pretty readily.
“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. “I haven’t been trained in anything.”
Matt snorted. “That much is obvious. But your instincts are good.”
“That thing that happened though.” I looked to Matt. “When I bit you. It jangled in my head like fireworks in a metal shed. What was that?”
Sheppard smiled. It crinkled the corners of his eyes. “That’s pack. We all felt it. Just not as quite as strong as you did—you were closer.”
“So then, you always know when pack’s in trouble,” I said, thinking aloud again. “Or when they’re hurt.”
“We all do,” Daniel confirmed, his mouth full of bread and meat.
“It’s pretty handy,” Ian added around a bite of his sandwich—turkey and ham on wheat with mayo, by the smell of it.
So, if the pack can always know when one is hurt, then it stands to reason that they could know other things about each other too. Which could explain why Matt was able to tell so readily what Jonathan and I were doing in the woods the night of the fire.
My cheeks heated at the thought of all of these people being privy to my private life.
“What is that about?” Chastity asked. She was looking at me.
I made a face that was something like a wince. “I was just thinking about what that could mean. And why Matt said what he did when Jonathan and I came on the scene at the house fire.”
Jonathan’s hand brushed my thigh. His quiet voice was almost sing-song. “Pack doesn’t keep secrets.”
Or rather, they can’t.
“Wait.” Chastity swallowed the last bite of her sandwich as she leaned an elbow on the table and pointed at Jonathan with an upturned hand. “You’re embarrassed that you slept with Jonathan?!”
Her voice was either incredulous or sarcastic. I couldn’t tell for sure. Jamie laughed, and Ian joined him.
With a wince, I sat up and glanced at Jonathan, who had put his second sandwich down. He rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. He was clearly waiting for my reply and was just as clearly not going to be any help.
“I’m not embarrassed,” I said quickly.
Sheppard looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Okay, that was a lie.
“I mean...” I slumped against the back of my chair. “I guess I am embarrassed.” Electricity crept into Jonathan’s scent. “But it’s not like I go around talking about who I’ve slept with and how often and when.”
Then it hit me. Chastity was poking fun at Jonathan. And I wasn’t terribly sure how best to diffuse that.
“It’s not anyone’s business,” Sheppard replied. “And that’s not how that works.”
“I knew what you two were up to because I could smell it on you,” Matt said. “You smelled like each other. You still do.”
Really? I sniffed at my shoulder. Sure enough, a certain someone’s woodsy scent faintly lingered there. I hadn’t even noticed, but it made me smile.
“But it’s not like it’s hard to tell who’s sleeping with who in the pack,” Ian said.
“Could we please stop talking about my brother getting laid?!” Jamie asked, exasperated. “What he does in the bedroom is nothing I need to know about!”
Uh oh. I saw Jonathan’s eyes glitter before he even opened his mouth.
“It was in the woods,” he said over the sandwich in his hand. “On the ground next to my Jeep.” The electricity in his scent dissipated, but a darkness crept into his tone. “And it was good.”
I felt his last line in the pit of my gut.
Jamie slammed his sandwich to the plate, snapping the white ceramic in two. “Aww, dammit, I broke a plate!” His face was instantly apologetic as he looked to Kaylah. “Sorry, Kaylah.”
My face was on fire, but I couldn’t help but smile. It was good with Jonathan.
“JONATHAN!” exclaimed Kaylah. It sounded exactly as it had when she had chastised him the day I woke up. “Yer brother oughta be used t’ it by now, but yer makin’ th’ poor girl uncomfortable!”
She stood and grabbed another plate from the kitchen, taking it to Jamie. He picked up his sandwich gingerly and placed it on the new plate, stacking the pieces of the old one to the side.
A Place to Run (Trials of the Blood Book 1) Page 18
