“Is your entire family werewolves?”
“Yeah, but only Dad and my brother can turn into wolves, but Mom and my sister are carriers of the gene.”
“That’s right. Cause only men can be werewolves.” I took another sip of wine. “Does that mean your mom and sister are fully human even if they’re carriers?”
“No. As carriers, they’re not fully human since they have heightened senses and strength. They just don’t turn into wolves.”
“Huh.” I tried to imagine growing up as Logan had, in one spot with my family surrounding me, no a pack surrounding me. I couldn’t. Logan’s life and mine were complete opposites. “Is there a large werewolf community in Wyoming?”
He nodded. “Most of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming are home to werewolves. There are only three packs in the country, and we tend to stick pretty close together, even though we don’t always get along.”
Three packs. Okay, I hadn’t known that. Finally, I was getting somewhere. “So, the wolves in your pack all, like, live in the same town or something?”
“No. We’re scattered in towns throughout the state, but we own the town where the majority of the pack resides.”
“You own the town?”
“More or less. We own all of the land, and the only residents are pack members.”
“How big is it?”
He cocked his head. “At last count, around ten thousand members.”
“And humans in the surrounding towns don’t suspect anything unusual about your werewolf town?”
“Not really. The nearest towns are about fifty miles away. They know us as being a tight-knit, unfriendly community that doesn’t appreciate outsiders. We’ve had humans try to buy land and want to join us, but we refuse. Cause if they can’t buy land and houses are never for sale, it’s kinda hard to move in. For the most part, they leave us alone since we don’t cause any problems. It helps that we’re good neighbors, even if we’re unfriendly.”
I swirled the wine in my glass, taking another sip before trying to ask casually, “And what role does your dad play in your pack?”
Logan dipped his head and forked another bite of spaghetti. “He’s … uh … the alpha.”
Surprise, surprise. “So that means he’s in charge of the entire pack?”
“More or less.”
I took another sip of wine. “Is that why you’re dominant over your friends? Because your dad is dominant?”
“You could say that.”
I frowned since his evasiveness was returning after telling me so much. “Does that mean you’ll be alpha one day? Because you’re dominant too?”
He grabbed his wine and took another drink before setting it down. “That’s the plan.”
His tone indicated that he wasn’t happy about it. I remembered Wes’s words. Don’t make me regret giving you a chance in this role.
I twirled another forkful of spaghetti and squirmed. Logan’s body language was growing more closed off by the second, but I desperately wanted to know more.
“So … you don’t want to be alpha?”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply.
When he refused to answer, I decided to keep pushing, even if it meant pulling teeth. “Why don’t you?”
Several seconds passed. It was long enough I thought he wouldn’t reply, when he said quietly, “Certain expectations come from being alpha, which means we don’t always have a choice about certain aspects of our lives. I don’t like that.”
Choice? Choice about what? But that shutting-down expression veiled his face again, growing sharper by the second. I backpedaled, switching subjects to keep him talking.
“So how do things work in the werewolf world? Is the alpha the president or something?”
His lips quirked up. “President? Um, no, but he is in charge, and he is responsible for the well-being of the pack.”
“That sounds like a lot of responsibility.”
He moved his fork around his plate. “It is.”
“Can you tell me more about what it’s like to be a werewolf? Could you shift from the very beginning? You know, like when you were a baby?”
He laughed. “No, babies don’t shift. The gene doesn’t activate until puberty. The first time I shifted, I was thirteen.”
“What was it like?”
He twirled another bite of spaghetti onto his fork. “Weird. Exhilarating. Powerful feeling. I knew it was coming. My parents had prepared me for it, but to actually feel the magic activate and to feel my wolf coming through and becoming a part of me … I don’t even know how to describe it.”
Since I’d switched the conversation to safer ground, that haunted look had left his eyes. He opened up again, telling me all sorts of things I didn’t know.
Apparently, everything worked off a hierarchy in the werewolf world, the more dominant families had the power and control, and the less dominant families filled the roles that were considered less desirable. Since his dad was alpha, I knew his family had to be the most dominant.
“So can a werewolf only come from a male and female werewolf?” I finished off my wine, my head spinning a bit from the alcohol.
“No. A full-blooded werewolf can sire a werewolf child with a human or another supernatural, but the gene doesn’t always manifest. There’s a fifty-fifty chance the child won’t be a werewolf if the other parent is human or another supernatural.”
“And if their child is a girl?”
“The same rules apply. Any female born werewolf won’t ever turn into a wolf, but if she’s a hybrid, she has a fifty percent chance of carrying the gene and showing werewolf characteristics herself.”
“Those characteristics being heightened senses and strength?” After Logan nodded, I added, “But a child between a male and female werewolf always produces a werewolf child?”
“Correct.”
“That’s surprising then, that there aren’t any humans in your pack if there’s a chance they can still produce a werewolf child.”
“There can’t be humans in our pack, and that has nothing to do with breeding. Remember what I told you before about how the SF laws changed ten years ago? Supernaturals can’t reveal themselves to human partners anymore.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. So is that why there aren’t any humans in your pack?”
“The law is part of the reason, but it’s also because we tend to breed within our pack and surrounding packs. You have to understand, dominance rules everything in the werewolf world. Even though females never change into werewolves, they still carry the gene and can pass on dominance to their children.” He popped another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and swallowed. He was on his second plate. “Some say offspring of two dominant werewolf parents makes for stronger wolf offspring, therefore the chance of having a more dominant son increases.”
“Can less dominant wolves still have a dominant son? Is that even possible?”
“It’s possible just not as likely. While shifts in power don’t often occur, the possibility still remains. That’s the main reason the werewolf community tends to breed within itself. Each family hopes to birth the next generation of super-dominants, which ultimately results in a different family rising to the top.”
“Wow. That sounds intense.”
“It can be. Dynamics can be weird among families, especially when sons are coming of age. Parents practically hold their breaths to see what dominance level manifests in their kids.”
“And you’re pretty dominant, right? Considering what happened in the recovery room?” I was almost loath to bring it up, but so far, Logan had remained talking, and I wanted to soak up every bit of information I could about him and his family while I had the chance.
“Yeah.” His tone almost sounded bitter.
“Is that weird? Since Wes is always ordering you around?”
He shifted on his stool. I knew I’d just hit another sore spot.
“Kind of,” he finally replied. “A lot of times, I have to fight my n
ature, but it’s good for learning self-control.”
Steering our conversation away from what seemed to be another sensitive topic, I asked, “So is your joining the SF something all werewolves do?”
His hand stilled, his wine halfway to his lips.
Or maybe I just hit another nerve… I forked another bite, pretending to not notice his sudden reluctance.
“No, it’s not something all werewolves do. I’m the first in my family to join the SF.”
I swallowed the mouthful I’d been chewing uneasily. From his tone, I’d definitely hit rocky territory again.
“Why did you join?”
He shrugged, pushing food around his plate. “I wanted to try something new and get away from…” His fork moved faster, squishing the remains of food. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to avoid some of my responsibilities back home.”
He didn’t elaborate.
I set my utensils down, no longer hungry for the few remaining bites of pasta that had grown cold. I could have been wrong, but it seemed I’d hit the core of Logan’s caginess about his life back in Wyoming.
Swallowing the uneasiness in my throat, I asked something I’d been wondering about our entire dinner, because from what I’d learned so far, Logan was a big deal in the werewolf world, a very big deal, yet he’d tried to hide that and blend in with the masses.
But try as he might, I knew there was no running from a family legacy. Of all people, I knew that too well.
“And your family won’t mind that I’m not a werewolf?” I asked quietly.
Logan set his fork down and pushed his food away then picked up his wine and drained the rest of it in one gulp. “You’ll encounter a lot of different opinions in the werewolf community. It’s best to just ignore them.”
That doesn’t sound reassuring at all.
“Do you want dessert?” He stood and cleared our plates. A loud clatter made me jump when he dumped the dishes in the sink.
“Uh, no. I’m fine. I’m pretty full, actually.”
He turned on the water, the loud sound of the spray filling the kitchen. Normally, I would have slid off my stool to help, but considering that Logan was scrubbing the dishes so hard he was practically attacking them, I figured letting him work out his aggression alone was probably better.
I cleared my throat and switched subjects completely. “So do all fairies look like Chloe and Millie?”
Logan glanced over his shoulder and some of the tense lines around his mouth relaxed. “When they’re not wearing their glamour, yeah, the pointy ears, glowing skin, brightly colored hair, and razor-sharp teeth are how all fairies look.”
“So what do they look like when they’re wearing glamour?”
“Like you or me. They’re very good at blending in with the public. You could walk by a fairy on the street and not even know it, even though you’re a supernatural.”
I raised my eyebrows and took another sip of wine. “You’re saying I could’ve met fairies at some point in my life and not known it?”
“You most likely have.”
I shook my head, once again amazed that the entire supernatural community had been right beneath my nose my entire life. “Millie seemed pretty friendly. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again, but Chloe, on the other hand…” I raised my eyebrows.
“That’s just because you hurt Phoenix. Try not to take it personally. She’s not exactly the warm and friendly type, and her hostility tonight is kinda her norm, but I’m guessing she went after you because of their recent assignment. They just got back from Africa and had some close calls while they were there. They’re lucky they all made it back, which has made all of them a bit high-strung lately.”
“Are your jobs really that dangerous?”
“Sometimes.” His voice dropped, and with a crashing realization, I remembered something Logan had said to me weeks before, on a hill overlooking a rest stop, back when he was my bodyguard and long before I knew of the supernatural community or that he was a werewolf.
He’d had friends die—two, if I recalled correctly.
“It was years ago, but it’s something I’ll carry with me until I die.”
But despite watching his friends die in what I assumed was an SF mission, Logan still preferred the SF versus facing his responsibilities at home. That in itself said everything about what he was avoiding.
“What were they doing in Africa?” I asked.
“Tracking down a ninki nanka. One had strayed from its swamp and was terrorizing a village. We don’t have to deal with them very often, but every twenty years or so, a team is dispatched to deal with one. It’s only when they leave the swamp that problems happen.”
“A ninki nanka?”
“A supernatural African beast. That particular one is rather nasty. Dangerous too.”
“Is that why you’re so close with Brodie, Alexander, and Jake? Because the four of you have been in situations where you might have been killed?”
“That’s part of it. We also grew up together. We’re from the same pack, and I’ve known them my entire life.”
“So you all joined the SF together?”
“Yes.”
From his clipped response, I knew he didn’t want to delve back into werewolf talk. The loud faucet spray finally stopped after he rinsed all the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Following that, he topped off our glasses with the last of the wine.
I hastily took a drink, needing the soothing effects of alcohol more than ever.
“How’s your leg doing?” he asked, sitting beside me once again.
My lips parted. I’d completely forgotten to tell him about my healed wound. “It’s fine. In fact, I’m completely healed.”
His eyebrows knit together when I showed him my calf. “Amazing. You healed as fast as a werewolf.”
I didn’t tell him that I normally didn’t heal that fast and that the only explanation was that the dark power healed me.
If anything, the event in the training room only solidified how incredibly powerful it was. Not only could the dark power kill somebody at a moment’s notice, but it could protect me as well. And while a part of that was comforting, it was also terrifying. Whatever now lived inside me had grown incredibly strong. I could feel it. It was like the more I used it, the more it thrived.
The bottom line—I needed to learn how to control it or get rid of it, because if I couldn’t control it, I would inevitably kill someone again.
Not wanting to dwell on the dark power, I said, “Did you know my entire life I thought nobody else who could supernaturally heal existed? And all along there was an entire coven of witches that could heal, too, living here at headquarters. I bet my mom and my nan would have loved to meet them.”
Logan’s eyebrows rose in an incredulous expression. “You think the witches here can heal like you do?”
“Can’t they? Back at the healing center, Rose did something to me with her magic. I felt it. I was getting worked up and anxious right after I woke up, and she stopped it by fluttering her fingers over me and casting a spell.”
“It’s true that some witches possess healing magic, but they can’t do anything like what you can.” He shook his head. “I don’t know any witch alive who can bring somebody back from the brink of death, or heal paralysis, or find someone’s cancer and eradicate it, or banish mental illness.” He paused, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. “You really don’t know how special you are, do you?”
“So … my family is different? We’re not like the other witches here?”
“No. You’re nothing like them. The entire community knows that your family’s history and abilities are unique—that’s why you’re famous. The other witches, they all have their own types of powers, but the healing witches don’t hold a candle to you. What you experienced from Rose tonight, with her lessening your anxiety, is about the extent of what a healing witch can do. Their potions are pretty handy, though, especially if you’re suffering from a nasty wound that takes longer th
an most to heal.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. All night, I’d assumed I’d finally met other witches like me, but according to Logan, no witch was like me. I drained the rest of my wine, my head swimming more.
Logan collected our glasses. “You ready to turn in? Eight o’clock will be here before we know it, and considering what happened earlier, I’d better not be late.”
According to the clock on the stove, it was almost midnight.
I sat up straighter while Logan started the dishwasher. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“After I meet with Wes, we’ll see the scholars. He was able to reserve two from the courts.”
I still had no idea what he was referring to when he spoke about the scholars and the courts, but a loud yawn stopped my curiosity. It had been a long day, and the wine was aiding my sleepiness.
“Do you really think the scholars will be able to help me?”
He placed his hands on his hips. His strong chest muscles pressed against his T-shirt. “If anybody is going to have answers and will help figure out what’s happened to you, it’s them.”
Chapter 16
Ten minutes later, Logan and I stood in his bedroom listening to the hum of the dishwasher as it carried into the room.
A navy-blue coverlet spread across his massive king-sized bed which took up most of the room. The blue contrasted nicely with the steel bed frame. Similar to the rest of his home, simple and sparse furnishings with clean lines and no flair filled the space.
I toyed with the zipper on the sweatshirt as I contemplated our sleeping arrangements.
Logan reached for a pillow and the spare blanket at the end of the bed. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No!” I jumped, dropping the zipper. “This is your house. I’ll take the floor. You take the bed.”
He glowered down at me and took a step closer, the pillow and the blanket forgotten. He stood only a hair’s breadth away, just far enough so that we weren’t touching but close enough that I could feel him. Warmth radiated from his body, and if I closed my eyes and inhaled, I would be flooded with his scent.
Power in Darkness Page 13
