by D. Fischer
She slaps me in the chest with the back of her hand. A smile lifts my cheeks. It feels good that I can feel somewhat normal around Kenna. She knows what it’s like to go through what I went through. Everyone else doesn’t get it. They’re hovering, like my wolf will take over as soon as they look away.
Dyson, on the other hand, is avoiding me altogether. I know why, and I find it despicably gutless. I figure I’ll let him wallow in self-pity a little longer before I hunt him down and confront him myself.
“I do not waddle,” Kenna says, forcing a straight face over her smile.
I purse my lips and nod my head once. “You do. Your arms sometimes flap, too.”
She turns her head the same time I do and looks into my eyes. Holding them for a moment, she lowers her voice. “You don’t have to hide from me, Flint.”
I sigh and look back to the water. “I know,” I mumble.
Arms folded across her large belly, she rubs absent-minded circles with her fingertips. “You going to tell me what happened?”
I firmly answer, my tone final. “No.”
She stares back at the water with me before I catch a small smile spread across her lips from my peripheral vision. “Bre told me about you and Irene. Wanna talk about that?” There’s a hint of humor in her voice as she tries to lighten my dark mood.
Not one to easily switch moods, my tone remains the same. “She’s my mate.”
Kenna’s head whips back around. “Your mate?”
I give a curt nod, pick up a rock, and throw it into the water. I watch it dive into the pond, running away from the surface, like my mate ran from me. The splash sprays droplets in every direction, creating hundreds of ripples flowing to the edge.
“Well, shit,” she whispers. “That explains it.”
Her eyes bore into the side of my face, searching for answers within my emotions. I shift uncomfortably on the rock I’m sitting on. “Explains what?”
“Her panicked emotions before she and Reese left the house. She practically ran out the fucking door.” Kenna chuckles at the memory. “She looked like the damn rabbit from Wonderland. Did she pull you from your dark place?” she jokes, making light of my previous situation. I note my distress makes her uncomfortable. She doesn’t know how to comfort me or what to say, and for that, I am thankful.
“Your feet are swelling at a rapid rate,” I observe, changing the subject from my fleeing mate.
It had caused pain in my chest to see her leave so abruptly. I never thought my mate would run from me when I found her. Actually, I never thought I’d ever find my mate. Many wolves don’t. The fact that I seem to be a burden to her is causing a hole in my heart—the same heart she had filled. It slowly leaks, causing my chest to ache for the loss. I try not to dwell on it because I can’t explain the void and why I can’t seal it—why I can’t mend it—without her.
“Apparently,” she begins, lifting a leg into the air and examining a swollen ankle, “I have preeclampsia.” She explains to me what the condition means and how it affects her health.
I give her a concerning look. “Should you even be out here? I believe bedrest is to be taken literally.”
She waves a hand at me. “It’s not resting if you have a hovering mate.”
I sigh and shake my head. She’s a stubborn woman. By the crumbs covering her shirt, I’m guessing she came out here with a snack as well. Her hair is unkempt—she’s given up on her appearance, probably because she feels like a whale. Or, maybe it takes too much energy. I’ll never understand the workings behind a woman.
“What are you going to do about your mate?” she asks, going back to the subject I’m avoiding.
I shrug my shoulders. “Give her a little space. I’ll hunt her down eventually.” It’s a true statement. I don’t plan to let her hide from me for long.
She shakes her head in wonder. “I never thought I’d see the day where the womanizing Flint settles down.”
For a long time now, I’ve used sex and jokes to hide my inner pain and struggles, and I’m good at it. But a few minutes with Irene and my pain subsided—I didn’t feel like I was burning away inside. Even now, I feel the urge to seek her out, even though she isn’t here. My wolf paces inside me, and it worries me that he’s so restless shortly after I’m released from my prison.
Irene will be here in a few days—Bre told me she promised Kenna and Evo that she would move in until the baby was delivered. I plan to confront her. I don’t like being ignored and I love the challenge of the chase. A shiver runs up my spine as I fantasize about the feel of her skin, her overwhelming scent, and how it would feel to claim those lips once more. She’s a drug to my inner turmoil and I plan to selfishly soak her in.
Before my body betrays the direction of my thoughts, I ask, “When are the new wolves coming in?”
“In a few days. Ben and Bre have the unoccupied quarters set up. Are you going to go help them move?”
I nod my head, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good.” She holds her arms into the air. “Help me up, will ya? I can feel my mate panicking like a lost duckling because he can’t find me.”
Mated pairs have a way to feel what the other is feeling through their connection. No doubt, Evo has tried contacting her through telepathy—mates can also communicate this way, as well as Alpha’s with the wolves in their Pack. I’m guessing Kenna is ignoring him, though. By the way her eyes are strained, she seems to be getting a headache.
I stand and pull her to her feet. Holding her hands until we’re away from the large rocks around the pond, I help her steady her balance. When we reach the grass, I drop my hands and let her waddle on her own while walking next to her.
The thought crosses my mind that I’ve missed her entire pregnancy. A sigh escapes my lips. I hear pregnant women can be funny. Not on purpose, of course, but for the innocent bystanders.
Jeremy’s wolf greets us, licking Kenna’s hand, before continuing his patrol. It’s almost dark out, so I watch each bump in the path to make sure Kenna clears it without tripping.
It’s no longer winter, but a glorious spring. The leaves are already blooming and the temperature is beginning to warm against my sun-craving skin, effectively entering us into tornado season. I missed eight months of my life behind the bars of my wolf. I’ve missed so much, that soon, a pint-sized baby will be added to the Pack. That, in itself, pisses me off. I can’t forgive or trust my wolf. I’m not sure I ever will. Eight whole months . . .
ChapterFive
Irene Scott
I lay on the bed and stare at the details engraved in the ceiling’s texture. Reese has just returned to the territory from a long day of work. She headed straight to our en-suite shower and is currently humming a jazz tone I recognize.
In the Riva Pack, there are too many wolves for each of us to have our own quarters. Instead of a mansion like the Cloven Pack, with separate living areas for each wolf or mated pair, our Pack lives in an old school building. Our Pack purchased the building and renovated it before I was born. Now, each classroom is a bedroom with an en-suite. This place is homey, it always will be, but it’s nothing compared to the Cloven Pack.
Reese exits the bathroom, fully dressed and towel drying her hair. “Did you eat yet?” she asks.
“Not yet,” I respond distractedly.
She stops in her tracks and assesses my mood. Walking over to my bedside, she grabs my arm and pulls me upright in my bed. “Let’s go.”
I grumble as she yanks me from my bed and reluctantly follow her out of our bedroom. “Where are we going?”
“To the cafeteria where you’ll tell me everything that’s going on in that brain of yours.” She shuts our bedroom door and briefly meets my eyes. “You’ve been acting weird and you’ve been avoiding discussing it.” She turns on her bare heels and walks down the hall.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I follow behind her, desperately wanting to go back to our shared room and go to sleep. Not that sl
eep would aid me in ridding my thoughts of my mate—he erotically and emotionally haunts me there, too. My heart aches for him, my body desperate for another touch.
She turns to me in the hallway and lowers her voice to a whisper, “Did you hear Jacob went on a date last night?”
I shake my head and she gives a wistful sigh. I’m sure she’s wishing she was the one he doted upon.
Jacob is our Pack Alpha. Every woman in the Pack, and many outside the Pack, has a crush on him. He’s a handsome and powerful man, I’ll give him that. His dark skin is inviting and his build would stop anyone in their path. Reese has had a crush on him since before he became Alpha.
Okay, so I admit, once upon a time, I did have a minor ‘thing’ for him. But once I grew and he became Alpha, I lost interest. Men of power may be sexy to many, but I don’t see it that way. Sometimes women have no idea how much time it takes for someone to remain in power. I selfishly want a man who is more committed and invested in our relationship than his power.
Life should be more about who you come home to, not about where you go and what you do when you leave that person’s side.
Jacob’s father was our previous Alpha. A long time ago, his father grew sick. Before he passed away, he made his son challenge and kill him, effectively taking his place. Jacob had been training for it his whole life, but my heart still breaks for him. Having to kill your own parent . . . I can’t imagine what that’d be like.
We arrive at the cafeteria and I accept my fate, knowing I’ll have to give my best friend the reason for the funk I’ve been in. It’s late and those who were on kitchen duty today have already cleaned and left, retiring to their own activities and agendas for the remainder of the evening. However, we’re wolf shifters, and we consume an abundance of food. There are always snacks or pre-made small meals to depend on.
I begin pulling down two chairs from the top of one of the many tables while Reese searches for pre-made sandwiches.
Reese and I have been friends since our mothers sat us in front of each other as toddlers. Our mothers and fathers, all deceased from a fatal car crash when we were young, had told us the story many times.
Reese and I were both crying, restlessly looking to entertain our little toddler minds, when they sat us down together. The instant we saw one another, we started conversing in baby babble. We’ve been as close as sisters ever since. She’s the only one I have close enough to call family.
My brother . . . our relationship isn’t the same as it once was. He went to war overseas and came back with PTSD. His personality had drastically changed and he spent many nights venturing out on his own, coming back late smelling of alcohol and vomit and never having a valid excuse for his behavior. He became an alcoholic and many times, I was left to pick up the pieces . . . and his passed out, heavy body from a bar floor.
After I had had enough, I confronted him—told him he needed to stop. The argument got so heated that he left and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. At the time, I figured he was finding another Pack for a fresh start, but now . . . Now I know different.
My heart skips a beat.
Reese breaks me from my thoughts when she plops down next to me. “Start talking, lady.” She unwraps a sandwich and passes it to me with a can of dark soda.
I sigh and close my eyes, choosing to leave out my deepest secret of betrayal. “I found my mate.”
She pauses unwrapping her sandwich and looks at me with bewilderment. “Who?” she whispers.
I stare at my food, unenthusiastic about answering. “Flint.”
She lowers her eyebrows and absentmindedly unwraps her sandwich. “The Cloven Pack guy? The one who’s stuck inside his wolf?”
I take a bite and mumble around my food, “He’s not stuck anymore.”
She sets her food aside and turns to me. “I’m so confused.” I explain to her what happened and she remains silent as she listens. “Why aren’t you jumping up and down right now? Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be with your mate?” The disbelief is thick in her voice.
“I can’t. I– not right now.” It’s a long story, and I don’t plan to tell a soul.
If things were simpler, if my life was simpler, I wouldn’t be hesitating. Reese may be my best friend, but I don’t share every predicament I find myself in with her. That’s not who I am and there are times where I know she’d never understand. We aren’t cut from the same cloth.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course you can’t. You know, it wouldn’t kill you to open up to me.” She picks up her sandwich and takes a generous bite.
It would, actually. Because if I told her—if I told my best friend—it could possibly mean her death. My death. Many deaths.
Flint Rockland
Consciousness comes and goes. A white metal interior of a van. Bumpy roads. Dyson groaning beside me. My own grunts loud to my ears. Voices—too many voices—as I’m dragged through the cold snow to a shed.
I’m roughly placed in a metal chair next to Dyson. His head rolls as he fights the drug used against us.
Wet, sticky blood freezes to my face. My head rolls to the side. Dirt floors, metal siding, a few featureless faces. I try to focus my vision and wiggle my fingers. My hands are tied together in a rough splintering rope.
My vision shifts in and out of darkness until freezing water is poured over my head. I grunt in surprise, my head snapping up. I look over at Dyson. His surprised shock from the cold water echoes throughout the large empty space.
My hair is yanked so my head tilts back. My eyes focus on a man, aging with slight wrinkles and peppered dark hair. He smells of peppermint.
“Do you know who I am?” the man asks gruffly, his peppermint breath washing over my face.
I don’t supply answers, unwilling to heed to the enemy’s desires.
I’m fully aware of where I am. I know what’s happening.
White hot pain blooms on my already bruised cheek as his fist connects to my face. My head snaps to the side, my eyes landing on a brunette woman. I recognize her—her features are exactly like my Alpha female.
“George—you’re George Kenner,” Dyson shouts as George raises his fist to punch me again. I growl and whip my head to his frightened face.
Weak, my wolf thinks as he echoes a growl inside me, ashamed of our Pack mate.
“Very good,” George rewards Dyson before turning dark eyes back to mine. “Where’s your Alphas?”
I remain silent, unwilling to give him the location of Kenna or Evo. I receive two more punches to the same spot, my bruised cheek hot, throbbing, and already swelling. The hit of skin on skin echoes throughout the shed.
I spit blood from my mouth and turn narrowed eyes back to George. He repeats his question and I remain defiantly silent.
George lifts his fist again, but Dyson supplies answers once more. “We don’t know!” he says, shouting his plea. “We don’t know where they are. They left the territory on snowmobiles. We don’t know where they went.”
I glare at Dyson. “Shut the fuck up.”
George slams his fist into my stomach and I grunt and double over in my chair. A few ribs crack from the force and I close my eyes to fight the pain from escaping my mouth.
The pain subsiding, I open them back up with Dyson in my peripheral vision. He doesn’t spare me a glance but keeps his frightened eyes on George.
“What’s your name, boy?” George asks Dyson.
“Dyson, sir,” he supplies without hesitation.
It disgusts me how he’s putty in George’s hands. I do my best to keep my wolf contained, but it’s proving difficult. He’s angrier with Dyson than he is with being taken from the territory, drugged, and beaten in enemy territory.
“What do you want from Kenna and Evo?” Dyson asks in a pitiful voice.
I already know that answer, Dyson must know it, too. It briefly dawns on me that he’s trying to keep George talking. His question falls on deaf ears.
George takes a metal bar from one of his snee
ring wolf shifters and walks calculatingly measured steps toward me. “What’s your name?” he asks me. I remain expressionless and square my shoulders.
George sneers and quicker than I thought the middle-aged man could move, he swings the bar down on my leg with such force that my silence breaks with a shout of pain. My wolf roars to the surface before I can stop him.
I wake, flying upright in my own bed. Phantom pain throbs in my leg and shouts echo through my room before I realize the noise is coming from me. My wolf, frightened by the dream, howls inside me and fights for control. He slams his body against the barrier every which way. I grit my teeth and clench my bed sheets, his attempts to break free painful.
An idea hits me. I replace the thoughts of the dream with light ones. The first that comes to mind is my ninth birthday. As a child, it had been the first day I could remember that my parents had paid attention to me the entire day. We drove to the river for my birthday and fished until the sun set. I remember the clouds turned a brilliant shade of orange that evening. My parents’ laughter as we sat on a blanket and watched the sun play with the clouds had made me smile so wide that my cheeks hurt the next day.
My parents left the Pack when Evo became Alpha. My father was the Beta back then and had wanted to escape the chaos the old Alpha had caused. He was never around, always serving the Pack. My mom was the same way—taking her Beta duties with honor, but forgetting she had a son.
They had asked me to go with them, but I chose not to. They weren’t admirable parents and I had no wish to stay in their shadows. I wanted a life of my own, opportunities of my own, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to have that if I left with them.
My wolf calms with the memory of my parents’ laughter when I caught my first fish. Their joy was contagious that day.
Releasing the tension from my lungs, I yank my sheets from around me and climb out of bed, intent on heading to the gym. Sweat drips down my back, so I might as well shower after I work out.
