by Lauren Esker
"Damon. Sweetheart." She hugged him tightly, ignoring Damon's grunt of surprise and pain. Damon stiffened at first, but slowly relaxed into his mother's embrace.
"I guess you know," he murmured into her shoulder.
"I felt it, darling. The entire pack felt the alpha change."
Julie, who still had her arm slung low around Damon's waist, felt Mrs. Wolfe's grip tighten on her son.
"I never believed it was you," Mrs. Wolfe said fiercely. "Not for a minute. You wouldn't have hurt your father—not like that. In an open challenge, perhaps, but not like that."
"No," Damon said. It came out a sigh. "Not like that. How is Dad?"
"Still hanging on. He's a tough old wolf." She pushed Damon back, holding him at arm's length so she could look at him. "Oh, honey. Where did Graydon get off to? Gray—"
"I'm here," Gray said, edging up behind her in the doorway. "And there you all are. Cousin, I think you and I have a date. You, me, and my home surgical kit."
"But—" Julie began.
It wasn't precisely that she didn't want to have to face her parents alone. Mostly, she didn't want to be separated from Damon. However, Gray hustled Damon off to one of the bedrooms, and Damon's mother swept Julie and her siblings away before any of them had a chance to protest—to the kitchen, as it turned out.
The last time Julie had been in the Wolfe kitchen, just an hour or two earlier, Brad and some of the Renners had been playing cards at the table. Now, she had the extremely disconcerting experience of finding her parents there, along with Vanessa and Grandma. All of them had untouched cups of coffee in their hands. The only one who didn't look thoroughly uncomfortable was Grandma.
For a long, awkward moment, all of them simply stared at each other. Even Mrs. Wolfe, the ostensible host, didn't seem to know quite what to do. Julie had a sudden, vivid mental image of what must have been the scene in the kitchen before she, Damon, and her siblings got here: the older generation all sitting around staring at each other over cups of coffee, trying to figure out how they'd somehow ended up in flagrant violation of the shared family tradition of hating each other.
Ava, who had always been the family peacemaker, was the one who broke the silence as Mrs. Wolfe shoved a cup of hot coffee into her hands. "Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," their father said. He seemed relieved to finally have some sort of (quasi) safe conversational topic.
"And you thought we'd be here?" Terry asked as he dumped sugar by the spoonful into his coffee. He passed the sugar can to Julie, who followed suit. The coffee, she'd discovered on a single sip, was incredibly strong.
She had a suspicion that powerfully strong, over-sugured coffee was the only thing that'd get her through the upcoming conversation.
"You ran off in the middle of the night!" Mrs Capshaw cried. "We heard wolves howling. The kitchen was a mess. Couldn't you have left a note, at least?"
"Ran off with new werewolf mate, brb," Julie murmured, too quietly for her parents to hear her. Terry did, however, and snorted.
"I think you owe us all an explanation," her father said.
"I think, actually, you're right," Julie admitted. She stared down at the spoon swirling around and around in her coffee. "I guess you've probably figured out about me and Damon by now. Well, some of it, anyway."
"It's true!" her mother wailed. "I knew you were running around with that Wolfe boy."
Mrs. Wolfe bristled—literally. Gold flashed in her eyes. "And what's wrong with my son, sheep?"
Oh dear. The last thing they needed was for the feud to dissolve into an open battle. Especially since the Wolfe kitchen was full of old-fashioned, heavy-duty cooking utensils, the sort that could easily be used for domestic homicide. From the corner of her eye, Julie noticed Ava using her heel to quietly nudge a massive iron firedog out of sight behind the stove.
And the only person who could stop it was Julie herself.
"Damon and I aren't running around," she said. "Not like you're thinking."
She forced herself to raise her eyes and meet the accusing stares of the older generation—with one exception: Grandma MacReary, who looked placidly entertained. "We're mates. It's the whole deal, just like in the old stories. Like he's become part of my soul. I feel his hurts like they're my own. When he suffers, I suffer. And I need to be with him. I don't really have a choice about that. If you forbid us to see each other, I'll ..."
Wither and die, she was going to say. But, no. She already knew that wasn't true, because there was another option.
"I'll leave," she said. "Damon's already told me he's willing to do the same." There was a sharp intake of breath from Mrs. Wolfe, echoed by Vanessa. "We don't want to. We'd miss our families terribly. But if it's that or be separated ... I'm sorry." And she was. Truly. "We really want to stay and work things out with all of you. And we will try to. But if we can't be together here, we'll leave. That's not negotiable."
"I gotta say something, too." Terry spoke into the heavy silence. "Mom, Dad, you know I've spent my whole life hating the Wolfe family like a proper member of the flock. But after spending the last day or so with Damon, and his sister too—" He nodded at Vanessa, who smiled slightly. "They're not monsters or savages or any of the things we always said. They're people. Pretty decent people. So ..."
He moved a step closer to Julie, and held out his hand. Surprised, she took it. His sturdy fingers were warm from the coffee cup.
"If you decide to kick Julie out because of this—and I hope you don't, because you'll never make a bigger mistake ... but if you do, she'll have one person in the family, at least, who isn't going to stop speaking to her." Terry glanced at Vanessa again. "And I'm not going back to ignoring the Wolfe family and acting like they're poison."
"Me three," Ava said in a clear, bold voice. She stepped up to Terry's other side, both hands clenched firmly around her coffee cup.
There was the sudden scrape of a chair being pushed back. Her face white but resolute, Vanessa got up from the table. "I—I think I'm going to have to agree with them, Mom. I'm sorry." She approached Julie's other side cautiously, and held out her hand. Julie set down her coffee cup and took Vanessa's slim, cold fingers in hers. Vanessa offered a hesitant smile. Julie returned it.
"The thing is, this feud's stupid," Terry said. "It's been going on for years because nobody was willing to be the first one to say 'Hey, guys, this is really dumb.' Well, that's what we're saying now."
This finally managed to break through their elders' shell-shocked disbelief. "You don't know what you're saying," Mr. Capshaw said sharply. "It's not as if we suddenly decided to avoid the family for no reason. That Verne Wolfe is a bully and a menace."
Well, Julie thought, avoiding Vanessa's eyes, I can't really argue with them there.
"And she," Mrs. Capshaw put in, pointing at Mrs. Wolfe, "used to absolutely terrorize my sister Charlotte when we were children—"
"Charlotte started most of those fights!" Mrs. Wolfe shot back, her eyes flashing dangerously again. "And I remember very well, Adam Capshaw, when your—brother, wasn't it, almost killed Verne's father by deliberately trying to run him off the road—"
Mr. Capshaw's head went down in the same head-butt pose as Terry when he was pissed off and about to shift into a ram. "Aaron was trying to avoid an accident. It was raining, the roads were terrible, and Verne's father rear-ended him intentionally. There was plenty of time to go around him—"
"It's the hairpin turn up by the Hafstetter farm! There's no room for anyone to avoid anyone else on that road. If your brother hadn't been going too fast for conditions in the first place—"
Vanessa exchanged a helpless glance with the three Capshaw siblings. "Is this what I sounded like when I brought that up at the farmer's market yesterday?" she asked in a small voice.
"I was just wondering if that's how I sounded when I was defending Uncle Aaron," Julie murmured back. "Really, from what I've heard, Uncle Aaron was fifteen at the time, only had a lea
rner's permit, and probably shouldn't have been driving the farm truck in the rain anyhow."
"I can't imagine Grandpa had the moral high ground when he'd almost run over a fifteen-year-old on a hairpin turn," Vanessa sighed.
A sudden, earsplitting whistle made everyone in the room fall silent. All heads turned to Grandma MacReary, who took her fingers out of her mouth with a satisfied air.
"Ah, yes, that used to get Carmen and Charlotte's attention when they were little girls, too," she said with a satisfied smile at Mrs. Capshaw. "Now, I can't fault any of you, as I spent the better part of my life believing the same things you do. I still find it odd to be sitting in a wolf shifter's kitchen, having coffee like civilized people. My parents would be spinning in their graves if they knew."
"Yes, and I'm about two seconds from throwing all of you sheep out," Mrs. Wolfe growled. Her canines were a little longer than they had been.
"First I need to say my piece. I had a pleasant talk with your son this morning, Lorna, and I have to say he seems like a fine young man. Head over heels for my granddaughter here. He's a good boy. And even if he weren't, it's Julie's choice. No one else's."
"I just don't want my son to make the same mistakes—" Mrs. Wolfe began, and then her mouth snapped shut.
"That you made?" Mrs. MacReary asked gently. "Lorna, we can't live our lives through our children. They're different people than we are. They have to make their own decisions, and their own mistakes. I have to say, when Carmen brought Adam here over to meet the family, I had some doubts—"
"What?" Mr. Capshaw said. "What doubts?"
Mrs. MacReary patted his hand. "Not anymore, Adam dear. You make my Carmen so happy. And you did then, too. I could see, just by looking at the two of you, that the mate bond was growing between you, and that it would be strong."
This made both Julie's parents huff. "Mate bond," her mother said. "Superstitious nonsense."
"Is it?" Mrs. MacReary asked. "I'd give anything, Carmen, anything at all, to have your father back. Is it worth denying your daughter her own shot at the same kind of happiness you two have, just for the sake of your pride? Especially when you understand that you won't be protecting her, you'll only be losing her forever?"
Mrs. Capshaw looked down at the table in silence.
"And you, Lorna," Mrs. MacReary said, turning to Mrs. Wolfe. "I don't know too much about wolf shifters, but I do know how important family is to you."
"Pack," Mrs. Wolfe said.
"Pack, flock, family—it's all the same in the end. You won't rescue your son from an unhappy marriage, you'll only force him to choose between his family and the woman he loves. And, dear, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think he'll choose you."
"So what do we do?" Mrs. Capshaw asked unhappily.
"Look to your children." Mrs. MacReary tipped her head toward the four young people, all of whom still stood in a close group near the door. "It's hard for us older ones to change. Let them lead you." She smiled. "They've certainly led me."
14. Damon
"I really should be downstairs," Damon protested, trying to turn his head to listen while Gray meticulously stitched up the side of his face.
Gray planted a firm hand on his forehead, rotating his head back to its former position. "No, you should not. Stop squirming, and hold up that mirror."
Damon sighed and raised the silver-backed hand mirror they'd liberated from the master bathroom. From this angle he couldn't see much of what Gray was doing. Cain Renner's fangs had torn across his cheekbone, into his hairline, and ripped through the top of his ear. All he could see was a gory mess, even after Gray had thoroughly washed and disinfected it. He wasn't sure how Gray could see to aim the needle.
They were in the master bedroom, sitting in front of the window. Damon would have preferred to be almost anywhere else. Even if he didn't have a med student stitching up his ear, it would have been difficult to relax with his father comatose in a bed not ten feet away. However, Gray insisted the light was best in the bedroom, and all his medical supplies were currently there.
A bowl filled with blood-tinged water sat at their feet; towels were spread around. Everywhere Damon looked, there were signs of the desperate home surgery that had been going on in here since very early this morning: stained towels, empty wrappers for gauze and syringes, and of course his father with a jury-rigged IV in his arm.
With nowhere else to rest his eyes, Damon settled his gaze back on the mirror, and the sliver of his own head that he could see in it. With his other hand, he held his long hair out of Gray's way.
"Aren't you finished yet?"
"No, and I never will be if you don't hold your head still," Gray complained.
"But Julie—"
"Look, cousin, do you have a mate bond with her or not? You should be able to tell what's going on."
"It's not telepathy." Still, Gray had a point, not that Damon was going to admit it. He'd have been able to tell through the link if Julie was terribly upset or scared. Right now he was getting occasional disquiet, but mostly a vague, comforting awareness of her presence.
"What is it like?" Gray asked. "Remember how we used to wonder, when we were kids?"
"Yeah, I remember."
Gray was younger in age than his brothers Brad and Barry, closer to Damon and Vanessa's age. The three children had been close as kids. They'd drifted apart as they grew up, since increasing friction between Damon and his older cousins had meant he didn't spend as much time around Gray as he used to. And then Gray had gone off to med school. Damon had often envied his cousin; as the youngest child of a pack beta, and a cripple by traditional wolfpack standards, Gray had no expectations weighing him down. He could go have a career somewhere else. Be someone else.
"Well?" Gray said, when Damon didn't go on. "Spill. What's it like?"
"I don't know how I can describe it. It's not like we always thought, like having someone else living in your head. It doesn't feel oppressive or frightening at all." As kids, they'd always assumed the mate bond would feel like the alpha bond, the only similar thing they'd experienced. "And I can't tell what Julie is thinking. It's more like always having someone to hold your hand, even when you're apart. Like having someone there all the time."
"Even in the bathroom?" Gray asked, a sardonic smile quirking the side of his mouth Damon could see in the mirror.
"Ha ha. No, not like you're thinking. Julie doesn't feel intrusive to me at all, any more than ... I don't know ... my hands or my eyes. She's a part of me. That's what it feels like."
"Hmmm," Gray said.
"Like I said, hard to explain. You have to experience it. And don't give me any of that 'I'll never find someone who can look past the cerebral palsy' crap."
"I have to admit, getting out of Johnson's Mill was good for that," Gray said, giving the stitches another tug that made Damon flinch. "When the only girls you've ever dated are wolf shifter girls ... well. It's different with human women. They don't mind as much."
"See? Told you."
"Human women can't mate-bond, though. It's like looking at a buffet I can't eat from."
This time Damon's wince had nothing to do with the stitches. "Really, Gray? Really?"
Gray laughed. "Oh, come on, lighten up. I've heard you make your share of tasteless Red Riding Hood jokes. Seriously, though, I guess I could settle for a casual relationship. I've had a few already. But, without the bond, that's all it'll ever be."
"Are you sure humans can't do it? Before Julie, I would've said sheep shifters couldn't, either."
"Can we talk about something else for awhile?" Gray pressed a gauze pad across Damon's cheek, and firmly taped it in place. "Like, say, the tragic demise of your good looks." He sat back and peeled off his rubber gloves. "Okay, you can move now."
Damon tilted the mirror, trying to see the side of his head. "Did I actually lose part of my ear, or does it just feel that way?"
"You actually did," Gray said. "I think Renner ate it."
; Damon had thought he was reasonably okay with the outcome of the fight, but now he felt faintly nauseous. "I hope it gives him food poisoning. Uh ... how much of my ear?"
Gray pressed a painkiller tablet into Damon's hand, considerably more heavy-duty than Mrs. MacReary's aspirin. "As a wolf, you'll have a notched ear. I understand some people, of the Brad and Barry persuasion, think that kind of scar—the 'I get in a lot of fights' kind—is very macho. As a human, your hair will probably hide it, unless you opt for a buzz cut."
Damon let his hair fall over the injury and accepted the glass of water Gray gave him. "Julie likes the long hair."
Gray snorted. "Too early for jokes about how whipped you are, cousin?"
"At least wait until after the honeymoon." Damon glanced again at the door. He hadn't heard any shrieking, at least ... "If there is a honeymoon, as opposed to a desperate flight from furious in-laws wielding wolf traps."
"Don't worry. If you and Julie have to hide out, I'll leave some care packages at dead drops for you."
Damon curled his lip. "Thanks, Gray. It's nice to have family to depend on."
"In all honesty, I would extend an offer to stay with me, except I'm sharing a tiny apartment with two other med students and I think we'd all kill each other in a matter of days. You know I'll help you two in any way I can, though."
"I know." Damon swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "Thank you, Gray. I mean it."
"And really, if you had to have the bad taste to fall in love with a sheep shifter, she seems nice."
Damon had opened his mouth to sing Julie's praises when a rasping groan came from the bed.
In an instant the cousins were both on their feet. Damon hung back, letting Gray bend over Verne's blanket-covered figure.
"Hey, Uncle Verne," Gray said, touching his fingertips to the pulse point at Verne's throat. "You back with us?"
Damon watched, a tangle of conflicted emotions balling up in his chest, while his father blearily opened his eyes and wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Renner. Cain ..."
