by Melissa Haag
“Anton, you can have the rest of mine,” I said quickly.
Mary grinned but said nothing. I knew she could see through the offer of my stew, but I did feel badly that there hadn’t been a full portion for him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Totally.” I held out my bowl, and he accepted it with a nod of thanks.
He didn’t move to sit by Thomas but stood by the sink, ate the last few bites, set the bowl with the others, then left the room.
“Take a seat at the table,” Winifred said, looking at me.
Still thinking of Anton’s lack of food, I spoke to Mary as I moved to do as Winifred asked.
“Tomorrow, we’ll make two pots of stew. Whoever brings the meat should double what’s being brought. It doesn’t have to be the same kind of meat. Two rabbits and two pheasants would work.”
“All right,” Mary said, sitting next to me.
Winifred set the iodine and bandages to the side, moved my hair away, and bent close to look at the stitches.
“I see the tear. And the new marks.” The last bit she said with exasperation.
“I thought it best to get the remaining attempts out of the way,” I said.
“I’m concerned that, though those here have agreed not to attempt another Claiming, others might still want to try. What happened a few days ago proves—”
“Winifred,” Thomas said sharply.
“Pup,” she growled, “I will not tolerate another interruption. You’ve voiced your opinions; now, let me do my duty.”
“Your duty is to keep the peace. There’s peace here. You can leave.”
My mouth popped open, and I turned to stare at Thomas. Mary tugged my hand. I looked at her and saw she was standing.
Annoyed with Thomas, I pulled my hand from Mary’s and stood.
“I think you should show Winifred a bit more respect,” I said to Thomas. “You told me this place is in her name. She’s the only one of you out in the real world, working to make sure you can keep it. Without her, where would you be? Have you asked yourself that?”
He held my gaze and slowly exhaled. His arms dropped to his sides, and he ran a hand through his hair.
“Winifred, I apologize,” he said. Though he didn’t sound condescending, he didn’t sound sincere either. “Do what you think is best.”
He turned and left. The common room remained quiet for several heartbeats as Winifred and Mary stared after him.
“I believe he’ll grow to be a good leader,” Winifred said.
At first, I thought she was talking to herself, but Mary nodded. When Mary noticed she had my attention, she blushed guiltily. I frowned, studying Mary.
“Let’s see if we can take these stitches out,” Winifred said, bringing the focus back to my wounds.
* * * *
The skin of my neck felt tight as I lay in my bed. I’d escaped from the common room after my stitches had been removed, tired from a long day.
Thomas’ slow breaths kept me company in the dark as he leaned against the door again. With Winifred here, I’d thought maybe she would stay in the room with me, but when I said I was ready for bed, she’d remained in the main room. However, like magic, Thomas had appeared.
Mary had once again blushed guiltily, and Winifred had scowled angrily. I wondered what about Thomas had both of them acting that way, and the wondering was keeping me awake. If not for Mary’s guilt, I would have easily pinned Winifred’s anger on his arrogant ways. It bothered me that my only two supporters were acting oddly around the person who’d wanted me here the least. And, I didn’t know what to think of Thomas. After his failed bite, I’d expected more hostility. Instead, he’d held me while I cried and had kissed me. I understood why he’d kissed me before trying to bite me. He’d thought it would help. But why kiss me again? There was no point to it. And now here he was, sitting in my room to protect me.
I yawned hugely and rolled over again. The bed was warm and comfortable, but I couldn’t stop thinking.
“Can’t sleep?” Thomas asked quietly.
“No. I want to, but my mind won’t let me.”
“Want to talk?”
“I don’t know...” I had questions but wasn’t sure he would answer them.
“Why are you hesitating?”
“Because I’m not sure about you.” And like a broken dam, the words didn’t stop there; they continued to flow. “You didn’t like me. Then, you wanted to bite me. When I gave you what you wanted, instead of leaving me alone, you watch me even more. You seem annoyed most of the time. I think you still don’t really like me, and I know you’re keeping things from me. But it’s not just you. I’m questioning whether it’s smart to continue making plans to stay here through the winter. My presence here obviously isn’t welcome. My neck can’t take any more holes; if it does, I’ll start spouting water every time I drink. Even if I’m not asked to leave, how can I possibly survive a winter here? Despite the steps we’re taking, I don’t think it will be enough. If the cold doesn’t kill me, malnourishment most likely will. How will talking about what’s on my mind change any of that? It won’t. Actions will. But I upset your kind if I talk about acting too much. So, no, I don’t think I want to talk about any of it.”
Silence answered the tirade I hadn’t planned on venting. Yet, I felt better for having said all of it.
“You will always have a place with me, and I will always listen.”
The simple words touched me, and the second kiss made more sense.
“You still think I belong with you...even after the bite failed.”
“Yes. Try to go to sleep, Charlene.”
I sighed and did try. But my mind continued to dwell on my concerns. Especially the one I hadn’t vented. Why was Mary acting so guilty?
* * * *
The racket in the yard woke me at dawn. I sat up, disoriented, and looked for Thomas. But he wasn’t there. Mary was. She stood in front of the window, watching the yard below.
“What’s happening?” I asked with a yawn. It had taken me too long to fall asleep.
“A challenge.”
Her voice hitched a bit when she spoke, worrying me. I flipped back the covers and joined her at the window.
Below, the men had formed a loose circle around two wolves. The animals fought wildly with claws and teeth, clashing and backing away only to clash again. Their moves were too fast to follow easily, but the blood on the ground around them told the tale well enough.
I glanced at Mary. She bit her bottom lip as she watched and tears glistened in her eyes.
“Do you know who it is?” I asked.
“Thomas.”
My heart gave a lurch; and in transfixed horror, I again watched the pair fight. I couldn’t tell which wolf was Thomas. There was too much blood on both of them.
“A challenge for what?” I asked.
“Pack leader.”
In the crowd surrounding the fighters, I spotted Gregory and Grey. Then, I frowned at the fight, trying to make sense of what I knew and what she just told me.
“Wait. You said packs are family units. So who’s Thomas fighting?”
“A Forlorn.” Mary spared me a nervous glance. “Charlene, I can’t talk about this.”
“What do you mean? Talk about what? What a Forlorn is, or Thomas fighting?”
A tear actually slipped down Mary’s cheek as she helplessly looked at me. I could tell she wanted to say more. Something was stopping her. As if she’d been commanded not to speak of it.
“Mary, don’t worry about it. If it’s something you can’t talk about, I understand.” I pulled her to me, hugging her close. I understood secrets and wouldn’t condemn someone else for keeping them.
The door to our room opened, and Anton poked his head in.
“She can’t talk to you, but I can. Thomas has been recruiting. He’s now the first leader of a non-family pack, one large enough to ensure Thomas can claim any territory he wants. He’s claimed this territory
. His challenger, should he win, would be Thomas’ pack’s new leader. That would give him rights to this compound, you because you’re unClaimed and living here, and Mary, since she’s unClaimed and currently a member of Thomas’ pack.”
Outside, the snarling increased in volume.
“I’m sure you’ll have questions for him when he’s done. Would you like me to escort you to the main room? Winifred asked that I keep an eye on both of you.”
Anton’s calm demeanor and choice of words told me he believed Thomas would be the winner. It helped me think past the actual fighting to the reasons behind the challenge. The challenger wanted leadership of not just Thomas’ pack but the compound—I liked that name—and me. It wasn’t long ago that I’d asked Mary and Winifred about non-family packs. They said there weren’t any. When had that changed and why? Just how big was Thomas’ pack now? Anton was right, I did have questions. Why hadn’t Mary told me that Thomas was now her leader? What about her father, Henry? I glanced at Mary and saw her worry.
“Yes, let’s go down,” I said to Anton.
Anton led us to the empty main room. The door to the outside remained shut, yet we could hear the continuing battle. Mary stood beside me, eyes wide as she listened. We needed distraction.
No food waited near the fire. Nothing to cook.
“Mary, let’s boil some water for a bath.” One or both of the two fighting would need a bath or at the very least, to wash. If they chose not to bathe, the water wouldn’t go to waste. I felt overdue for a bath, myself.
While pumping the water, I noticed two more bags on the floor and realized I’d never looked at what Winifred had brought. Once all the kettles were heating on the stove, I emptied the contents of the bags on the table. As promised, I found cookies on a tinfoil wrapped plate. I eagerly shoved one in my mouth while looking at everything else. She’d brought more dried beans and a very large cloth bag of rice. This time she’d also included a huge bag of oats, a jar of honey, a bag of sugar, and several jars of jams, tomatoes, and pickles. It appeared that either Winifred canned or she knew someone who did.
Mary started to put the supplies into the cabinet, and I removed one of the steaming pots from the stove. I poured half the water into the bowl in the bathroom, leaving just enough in the pot to boil oatmeal for breakfast.
After returning the pot to the stove, I went back to the tub room, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. The sounds of the fight continued to filter in from outside. I moved to the stove to check the water again.
By the time the water boiled, I had the oats ready to put in, and Mary had towels ready for whoever would take the bath.
It was only after I added the oats that I noticed the quiet.
“Well?” I asked, looking at Mary.
She met my gaze with a thankful smile. “Thomas won.”
Relief flooded me. “Good. Tell him we have a bath ready if he wants it. Breakfast will be done in a few minutes.”
I stirred some sugar and honey into the cooking oats.
The door opened, and a very dirty and slightly bloody Thomas walked in. For some reason, I’d expected a few more injuries than what I saw. There’d been so much blood on the ground.
His gaze met mine. My heart fluttered in response, and I quickly looked away. He needed to start wearing a shirt. Though I wasn’t watching him, I was aware of his regard as he strode toward me. My skin prickled when he stopped just behind me, and a shiver traced its way down my spine.
I continued to stir the oats so they wouldn’t burn and pretended I didn’t notice him or my reaction to him.
“Mary, this is just about done,” I said. “I’ll set it on the small table so it can finish cooking without burning.”
Before I could test the handle, Thomas reached around me and lifted the pot from the stove. His bare arm brushed mine, making it harder to ignore him.
“Thank you,” I said, quickly stepping away.
He grabbed my hand and held the pot out to Mary without looking at her. She quickly retrieved it, her cheeks pink and an unspoken apology in her eyes. Behind Thomas, Anton winked at me and strode out the door.
“Do you have questions for me?” Thomas asked.
“How many are in your pack now?”
His lips curled in a slight smile.
“Nine.”
He sounded so proud of that number.
“And what will you do with those nine pack members?”
“Fix this place. See if we can’t find ourselves a new purpose.”
“How exactly did you gain each of your new pack members?”
The humor faded from his expression. He studied me, and I could tell he was trying to figure out where I was going with my questions. When he didn’t answer, I asked my next question.
“If he would have won, Mary would have become one of his pack. What if she didn’t want to be one of his pack? Could she just leave?”
“She could,” Winifred said, entering the room. She closed the door behind her and gave Mary a reassuring smile. “However, she would have been considered Forlorn, an outcast, until she could find another pack to take her. Mated, that would be an option. However, an unMated Forlorn female is a dangerous position. Even for a moment.”
“Could she just rejoin her father’s pack?”
“Once her father is proven weak in a challenge, he would find himself constantly challenged by those looking to win an unMated female,” Winifred said.
I turned back to Thomas.
“Did you challenge her father?”
“No.”
But if she went back to her father after defecting from his pack, he would be challenged. Why had she left in the first place? Was it because she was getting ready to say yes to Gregory? Or had Thomas interfered?
“Did you tell Gregory to ask her to join your pack since they will be Mated eventually?”
He didn’t respond, answering the question with his silence.
“I’m guessing being part of your pack isn’t all Mary had hoped it would be. I’m also guessing that leaving her current pack to rejoin her father’s isn’t as easy as one might think.” I turned toward Mary. “He’s telling you to keep secrets and to do things you don’t like, and you’re feeling guilty about it. Don’t. I’m pretty smart and will know whom to blame once I figure everything out.” I eyed Thomas. “And I will figure it out.”
His lip curled a little, not a smile but a show of his frustration with me. I kept my face neutral and stared back.
“The water’s getting cold,” I said.
He took the hint, let go of my wrist, and closed himself into the bathroom.
“Mary, help yourself to breakfast. Winifred, could I talk to you outside for a moment?”
She nodded and walked outside with me. Men still wandered the yard, but I saw no sign of a wounded wolf or man. I could only guess he’d already left.
“Breakfast is ready,” I said to whomever might care to listen. Several of the men went inside. Winifred and I kept walking.
“Do you have your keys with you?” I asked, moving toward her truck.
“They are in the ignition.”
I couldn’t have been happier. Opening the passenger door, I asked, “Would you mind taking me to the junk yard? I could use a little time away from here.”
“Certainly.” She got in, started the engine, and we were off.
“I believe he does mean well,” she said as we bounced down the driveway.
“I’m sure he does.” I stared out my window for a moment. “Mary wasn’t the one who wanted to start sleeping with Gregory, was she?” I asked, finally.
“No. She didn’t want to leave you, yet.”
My eyes narrowed at Thomas’ sneaky, underhanded move.
“What does he gain by being in the room with me at night?”
“He truly believes he is your Mate. He wants to protect you and be near you.”
“And the others?” I said. “Didn’t they truly believe I was their Mate?”
“They did.”
“What makes him think he’s different, then?” I asked, studying Winifred.
“His unwillingness to give up. Ever.”
His promise never to bite me again kept me from worrying about his persistence. That didn’t mean I would accept him in my room at night anymore.
“Can you ask Mary if she’d like to move back into the room with me? Let her know it’s okay if she wants to stay with Gregory.”
“She would rather be in with you. She worries about you. I do, too. There are too many males here and not enough control. I wish I could stay with you; but as Mary and Thomas pointed out, I’m the only reason they have a safe place to roam.”
“Aren’t there more of you? I mean, like you?” I couldn’t recall the word Mary had used to describe her.
“Another Elder?”
That was it.
“Yes.”
“My predecessor died two winters ago. There is another in Europe. We talk often about the packs and the future of our kind. He worries there haven’t been any volunteers since me. Not many are willing to accept this lonely life of responsibility.”
Her life sounded so much like the life I anticipated for myself.
“Can I be one?”
She glanced at me, a smile stretching her face.
“That you would ask, says so much about you, Charlene.” She turned back to watch the road. “Unfortunately, I can’t touch your mind as I can my own kind. Without touching your mind, I cannot make you an Elder.”
“Mary said you can touch the minds of all of your kind. Have you asked them if anyone else wants to be an Elder?”
“We don’t touch the minds of those we protect until they initiate it or to protect them or those around them.”
“Wouldn’t the point of having another Elder, especially back there, be to protect them? I don’t see how you can do this on your own and keep everyone safe. Doesn’t that make it a necessity to actively search out more who would be willing to share your responsibilities?”
She was quiet a long moment.
“You prove age has no bearing on wisdom.”
“Wisdom is gained from experience,” I said.
