by Alana Hart
My mouth finished dropping open at that, my eyes huge and round. My mind kept replaying his words over and over, but they refused to make any more sense. Vaguely, I heard a few soft snickers and chuckles from some of the group, but I was too stunned to be offended that I was being laughed at.
I must have been completely blank-eyed, because Bryson patiently waited in silence while I tried in vain to process. Eventually, though, he continued quietly.
“My father was the leader, the alpha, of our pack.”
Unintentionally, I interrupted him with a hysterical little giggle. Leader of the pack? Seriously? He raised a brow with a little frown, and I managed to squash the fit of not-quite-mirth.
“When I was a teen, there was another pack trying to take over our territory, so my father sent my mother and me to Charlottesville for safety. But shortly before I turned eighteen, he was killed in a large skirmish. Ultimately, we won, but the pack was left leaderless. Even though I was very young — I hadn’t actually turned for the first time yet — the pack decided they wanted me to take over as Alpha after my father, as it had always been assumed would be the case, just- well, later.”
I just stared at him. I felt like my brain had completely broken, laying in mangled tatters like images of horrific plane crashes.
“That’s why I just disappeared. I couldn’t risk drawing any attention on the pack from outsiders. I hated just leaving you like that; I knew we couldn’t last, but I had always assumed we would part as most high school sweethearts do, long before the pack became an issue.”
❖ ❖ ❖
I don’t know how long I stood there, just staring at him. My sense of the passage of time was as completely ravaged as the rest of my mental faculties. Bryson — and the group surrounding us, for that matter — waited patiently for me to gather up the shredded remnants of my thoughts.
The first thing that began to register on my mind, oddly, was that while I had sensed animosity from the smaller group at the bonfire, this felt more — supportive?
The next thing was the hysterical thought that they must all be completely, stark-raving insane. Werewolves? Shape shifters? All of them? Was this some sort of mass hallucination? Or maybe it was just some sort of ritualism, like how new-agey people sometimes call themselves witches.
It must have been quite a while before my brain rebooted, because when I finally realized my mouth was still hanging open and closed it, it was so completely dry I almost gagged. A jibbering corner of my mind yelled at me to get out of there, to get as far away as I could, but another part wanted desperately to get enough information for this to finally make sense. And the largest part of all, was still too deeply in shock to know what to think, or probably even how to think by now.
“S..so why are you t..telling me all this now?” I stuttered a bit thanks to my dry throat, and no doubt my nerves and fragmented thoughts didn’t help.
He smiled a bit at me, as if approving of where my mind went first. “Well, as I said, I had not turned yet when we left to come back here. After we change the first time, our senses change, grow stronger, even as our human selves. That much of the myths are true, at least.”
“What’s that got to do wi-” He cut me off with a gentle finger on my lips. I frowned, but fell silent to wait for him to finish.
“What I didn’t realize then, was what I discovered that first day I saw you on campus a couple weeks ago. I caught a scent of wolf. My mom never really met you properly, and we weren’t here when you were little, my grandfather was still Alpha then, so I had no idea; but you’re half wolf.”
I felt that dumbfounded, blank look come over my face again. “Half… wolf…? What the hell does that mean?”
He nodded slowly. “After I caught your scent, I — well, I guess you could say I did some research.” He chuckled faintly. “I wish I had thought to do it sooner, but it never occurred to me that you might be anything but pure human, since you had no connections to any of the local packs.”
“But?” I prompted. I was both terrified and desperate to hear the remainder of this bizarre tale.
He glanced over at the elderly woman again, briefly, as though seeking strength, or reassurance. She had to be a family member; his grandmother maybe?
“But — it seems your father was a wolf. A lone wolf, a rogue, who turned away from the packs and other wolves, and took a normal human mate. It’s frowned on, but it happens from time to time, especially in the weaker bloodlines.”
He paused again, seeming to search for words, an almost panicky look stealing over his face, brows drawing together. A part of me felt for him; this had to be hard for him, he hadn’t had anything to do with my father, and now it was put on his shoulders to deal with the fallout. And to hurt me, again, and badly, if all of this absurdity was true.
The elderly woman took a step forward then, and spoke up; yes, she must be his grandmother, I thought. The way all the others deferred to him so completely, I couldn’t imagine anyone else speaking up without a direct request. Though her body showed obvious signs of age, her voice was remarkably strong and steady, if quiet.
“When you were little, dear, the Alpha, Bryson’s grandfather, approached your father. While we frown on our own taking human mates, we can deal with it. But we can’t have a wolf around who isn’t affiliated with a pack. It’s too dangerous, for all of us; too much risk of exposure. But, rather than join the pack, he chose to leave. I can’t speak for why he chose to leave you and your mother behind; I can’t even imagine such a thing, especially in a wolf. Family is everything to us. Usually, anyway. Obviously, a rogue is fundamentally different than most of us to begin with.”
❖ ❖ ❖
Abruptly, I found myself laughing. Not just normal laughter, but nearly convulsive guffaws. I was every bit as surprised by it as the shocked expressions around me implied that my audience were. It was just all so completely ridiculous.
Bryson’s eyes grew wide, and his brows furrowed. He rested his hands on my arms gently, rubbing a bit. “Adalyn? Are you alright?”
“Alright? Alright?! No, I am not alright! I am so far from alright that it isn’t even in the same ballpark anymore!” I was laughing, and shrieking, and falling rapidly into true hysterics.
“Shh, shhh, Ada, honey, calm down,” he urged again. Is it just me, or is this becoming an unpleasant pattern?
The small crowd around us shifted and fidgeted uncomfortably, and seemed to draw in closer, forming a solid ring around us as if they were afraid I would bolt and needed to be caught. I couldn’t quite decide if that was reassuring or troubling.
I looked up at him, and the hysteria shifted directions dizzyingly, suddenly igniting in anger.
“Is this all some sick joke? Are you all in need of padded rooms? Are you trying to drive me insane? Stalking me and leading me on wild goose chases and now you’re fucking werewolves?”
Bryson’s head jerked back as if I had slapped him again, his eyes looking even more hurt than when I actually had. “Adalyn, no, no it’s nothing like that, I-”
I interrupted him, jerking out of his grasp, though of course I couldn’t go far, thanks to the now very solid ring of people standing shoulder-to-shoulder around us.
“You’re all crazy!” I shrieked at them accusingly. Many of them looked concerned, or even sympathetic, which only fueled my frenzied agitation. “This is so completely fucking insane! You all need mental help!” I began to shake, tears pricking at my eyes, fury and terror and confusion and a dozen other emotions besides, all in a turmoil inside me.
Bryson, eyes wide, looked to the older woman again, his expression remarkably boy-like for a young man purportedly in charge of this varied group of people. I was vaguely aware of her frown and shrug, and the little forward motion she made with her hand, as if to say ‘go ahead’. He nodded slightly in response, and looked back at me, a sort of peacefulness stealing over his features as his mind visibly settled on his course.
The fear took ascendancy over the turmo
il, then, and I stumbled backwards, though I was quickly stopped by the ring of people. They were gentle, no one grabbed me or anything like that, but they didn’t let me escape past them, either.
Bryson took a few slow, deep breaths, and I could have sworn his eyes flashed a vibrant, glowing greenish-gold before he closed them. The air around him seemed to tremble, as if he had suddenly increased temperature so much that he was giving off visible heatwaves.
My mind could find no words for what came next. He seemed to… to melt, but not in a liquid way. More than anything, it reminded me of old stop-action clay animation. It was both fascinating, and gut-wrenchingly disturbing. The shimmery heat-wave like quality of the air around him obscured most of what I am sure were disturbing details, but it was still all I could do not to gag and retch seeing what I could see.
He lowered to the ground, and the shape of him changed, and when the air finally cleared, sure enough: instead of familiar young man with the broad chest and chin-length brown hair with honey highlights, was a huge cream-and-honey colored wolf, looking up at me expectantly with entirely too-familiar amber brown eyes.
My vision went slowly black from the edges in, and those eyes were the last thing I saw, before the blackness swallowed them up as well.
Chapter Seven
I returned to consciousness slowly. My mind, probably in an attempt to protect myself, did not immediately recall what had happened, or even where I was. Whatever I was laying on was hard and lumpy, and my head was at an awkward angle. But there was a solid, warm, soft presence pressed up against me. I nestled into the warmth, until something tickled my nose, nearly making me sneeze.
As if the jarring from the aborted explosion dislodged a physical block in my mind, details came flooding back.
My eyes flew open, and I realized that the soft warmth pressed up against me was the honey-cream wolf that had taken Bryson’s place. A corner of my mind whispered that it was Bryson, but most of me was not ready to process that yet.
I was on the ground; no wonder it felt hard and lumpy. The grass was thick here, but it still didn’t make much of a mattress. Someone had thoughtfully made a sort of pillow out of a folded jacket for me, but it wasn’t much, and apparently I’d been out long enough that I was getting a crick in my neck.
For a long moment, I just lay there, my face still mostly hidden in the thick wolf fur, too confused and frightened to move. Apparently trying to pretend I was still out did not fool the huge animal next to me, however; his head curled around, and he began to lick my face gently. Although I had been around plenty of dogs in my life and knew full well it was an affectionate gesture, that crazed, panicky corner of my mind was absolutely certain it was a prelude to the wolf eating me.
My breath quickened, and I started to try to scramble away from the creature, but I was too disoriented to accomplish much. I think I hurt myself — and probably the wolf, too — more than I managed to actually move.
I looked around wildly, and I could already feel myself starting to hyperventilate again. The group — the pack, I reminded myself — was still roughly circled around the two of us, but more relaxed now, or had been until I started to panic again. A few were sitting, several were clumped together talking in very hushed tones. From the more casual attitude and the way they were more spread out now, I got the impression that while they were still attentive, they wouldn’t stop me from leaving now if I tried.
Oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, that served to calm me down somewhat. There’s nothing quite like being told you can’t do something, particularly something like leave a place, to make you desperately want to do just that.
It didn’t calm me down very much, though. Enough that I was able to actually get myself away from the wolf I was irrationally sure was going to devour me. As the space between it and me increased, the wolf sat up slowly, ears pricked forward, and head tilted to the side slightly, seeming curious to see what I would do next.
In a move I doubt would shock anyone, I began to cry, yammering quickly, much of it fragmented and not making sense even to me.
“What— No, how— Impossible! Crazy—” Words started and aborted as thoughts flitted through my head like swarming insects, cutting off each question before it even finished let alone received an answer.
Several of the gathered people looked worried, and a few even started to move towards me, but then stopped. The large wolf, however, flattened his ears down and whined softly, a regretful keening sound, before the air began to quiver like clear jello around him again. I looked away, quite certain I could not hold down my dinner if I watched the process of transformation again.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Adalyn?” It was Bryson’s voice once more a few moments later, raspy from strain, worry and pain. That tone tugged at the strings of my heart in unexpected ways, and I turned my eyes back to where the wolf had been.
Only to immediately avert them again. He was naked. I suppose it shouldn’t have shocked me, his jeans were right there on the ground in plain sight, if I hadn’t been too oblivious to notice such details.
But… but he’s naked!
It was the first time I’d seen a real live adult male —not photos or on TV — fully unclothed, and ‘uncomfortable circumstances’ was a laughable understatement, given both the audience and the setting. Stranger still was the fact that no one else seemed to find it strange.
I guess if this is a regular thing for them, and they’re always naked afterward, they wouldn’t find it strange at all? It was one of the most coherent thoughts I’d had in what felt like hours. I stood carefully, teetering a bit, but keeping my gaze adamantly away from Bryson’s direction.
Even with my eyes completely turned from him, however, I could still sense him move up slowly behind me. ‘Bryson is naked’ and ‘Bryson is coming up behind me’ did not connect as related thoughts in my addled mind.
He reached out to me, and tentatively, gently slid his arms around me, clearly trying to be comforting. It almost worked; the tension began to fade slightly, and his arms tucked me tenderly against his broad chest, wrapping me in strength and warmth.
Against his broad, naked chest. Sure, he had been shirtless before, too — I understood that now, the wolf could step out of jeans, but a shirt would have been much more awkward — but all that skin reminded me that the rest of him was also now bare.
With a snarl that shocked me, as if it had come from some other throat, I spun on my heel, tearing out of his half-formed embrace, and my hand connected with his face for a second time in a slap that echoed around the quiet moonlit meadow. No, it wasn’t merely quiet, at that point; it was silent, as if even the crickets and other night animals had frozen in place from the sound of that slap. The humans — or whatever they were — were as still as statues, most of their eyes practically bulging from the way they stared.
Except the elderly lady, who was snickering under her breath and trying unsuccessfully to hide it. I decided I kinda liked her, and I suspected that she was having similar thoughts about me.
I glared up at Bryson now that I was facing him, trying to simply ignore his nakedness as everyone else seemed to be doing; no easy feat when the only person you’ve ever really dated is buck-naked in front of you. His pale brown eyes were so full of hurt — not physical pain, I wasn’t that strong, but rather from emotional sting — that I almost softened. I even had the random impulse to apologize, which was ridiculous. I wasn’t even sure what I would apologize for, aside from simply trying to make that hurt leave his eyes. Luckily for us both, however, he didn’t try to come closer to me again. I was genuinely unsure how I would have reacted, and I really didn’t want to find out.
❖ ❖ ❖
The tense tableau held for several long moments, everyone just staring at everyone else in uncertainty. Finally, Bryson sighed, his head hanging slightly, shoulders slumping. He looked so defeated, or maybe dejected.
“Ada, I— I’m sorry. Truly. I’m sorry that I hurt you, sorry that what we
are has caused you so much heartache in your life without you even knowing it. And while I’m sure it doesn’t sound the least bit appealing right now, you need to know, to understand — you are half wolf. To us, that means, basically, you’re family.”
No few of those gathered around us nodded their agreement, or murmured assent, though I couldn’t make out any words, just generally affirmative sounds.
“It also means that, if you want, you have the right to join the pack.” He motioned around us somewhat vaguely, indicating the ring of spectators.
“If I want? It doesn’t sound like what my father wanted mattered.” My words were venomous, but the bile wasn’t really directed at him, just a sort of general anger at the situation, at the world in general and its unfairness.
“Yes, if you want,” he affirmed. “Your father was different; he was a full-blooded wolf, he posed a potential danger to us on his own. You are only half-blooded, and if you choose to remain apart from other wolves, you pose us little to no threat, so long as you swear to uphold our secrecy, and abide by your word.”
