With his face illuminated by moonlight, revealing his sympathetic expression as one of unmistakable sincerity, Grant studied my own face briefly before he spoke. "I didn't attack your parents, and neither did any of my men. I swear this on my parents' graves. Malachi told me that dragon shifters from Ashcrest killed your parents, though he didn't say how or why, and I didn't believe him for a second.
“And later, Steven Ashcrest himself told me how right I was. He said none of the dragons from Ashcrest would ever attack a wolf shifter, for any reason, while there was a human female near. They might defend themselves if a lone wolf attacked, sure. But they'd never attack just for sport.
“They'd never, ever kill a human woman. Steven and I have come to the conclusion that it was likely Malachi himself and his men who attacked and killed Gray and Estelle. He wanted to sell you. He wanted the money you could bring. And he probably knew that your adoptive parents wouldn't let him sell you like property. He needed them out of the way."
Grant paused, and I stood trembling. I couldn't speak. A wave of nausea rolled over me. Something had clicked in my brain while Grant had been speaking. Something made me realize that he was telling the truth. What he'd said made sense. And I just couldn't deny the sincerity of his expression. It was sincerity that couldn't be faked. I felt it in my gut. After a long couple of seconds of silence between us, I finally spoke, my voice coming out in a whisper.
"So stupid. I feel so stupid. I trusted them. I trusted Malachi and his men. I trusted them."
Wincing, Grant put his large, strong hands on my shoulders. "You had to trust them, Lila. You had to. It's understandable. You're not stupid at all. You had to trust them in order to feel any kind of security in your life and survive. If you'd seen the wolves as your captors, your existence would have been harder, and your mind knew that. Your mind knew that you needed to trust, and try to form a bond with them."
He paused, giving my shoulders a gentle little rub. "But now, with me, I want your heart to know. I want your heart to know that you can trust me. And Adrian, and Aunt Mil, and everyone back in Sun Creek who cares about you."
Still feeling incredibly stupid and embarrassed, I shook my head, hot tears welling in my eyes. "I don't ever want to trust anyone again. Ever."
"But you have to. You're going to have to at some point, in order to feel happy in your life. It's time to trust again, Lila. But this time, in people who are worthy of your trust. This time, to people who won't betray it."
"And how do I know that's not a lie? How do I know you and the others won't lie to me and betray me like the wolves did?"
"You don't. And that's why this trust, this new trust, you're going to have to feel in your heart."
Beginning to sniffle a bit, I didn't respond. I was contemplating his words.
Grant ran a thumb along the side of my face wiping away a falling tear. "So, can you trust me and the others, Lila? Can you at least try?"
I suddenly felt that I could, but I couldn't say it. I could only nod with tears now streaming down my face.
Grant immediately pulled me into his strong arms and gently pressed the side of my face to his hard chest. "We won't let you down. We won't betray your trust. I promise you that. We will be worthy of it. And whether you ultimately choose me or Adrian to be your husband and mate for life, you'll be getting a man you can put your faith in. A man you can trust with every fiber of your being."
He held me for a while longer, stroking my hair, while I continued crying.
But eventually, I lifted my face, realizing that there was still yet something he hadn't explained to me. "When you said that you do have a guilty conscience...but not because of why I thought you did...what did you mean?"
He frowned, his icy blue eyes glinting silver in the moonlight. "Let's get in the truck, and I'll take you home. We need to talk, because...." He took a deep breath, frowning even harder. "I have some explaining to do."
Taking deep, steadying breaths, I did as I was told and got in the truck, praying that whatever he had to tell me wouldn't affect my brand-new, fragile feeling of trust in him. Because now that I felt it, I wasn't sure if I could survive it being shattered.
CHAPTER FIVE
Grant had just helped me into the truck and shut the door when the howling began. At first, it was just a lone howl, from a single wolf. But within seconds, that single wolf was joined by others. Many others. It sounded like at least a dozen. And it sounded like they were close.
Grant turned his gaze from the forest bordering the road to me. "Roll up the windows, lock the doors, and stay in the truck. No matter what. You hear me?"
Already rolling up the window, I nodded. "Yes."
Even in my current state of fear, I still couldn't help but appreciate Grant's authoritative and commanding presence. Which didn't just come from the words he'd spoken; it was the way he'd spoken them in his deep voice, the words measured and calm. His authoritative presence made me feel less afraid than I surely would have felt in the same situation with any other man. His presence made me feel safe. Or, at least as safe as I could feel with so many wolves nearby.
After locking the doors, my first thought was to grab my cell phone and make a call to the family house for backup. I knew Grant was the strongest bear shifter in the entire community, but even the strongest bear shifter might have trouble dealing with several wolves at once, and especially a dozen, like it sounded like there could possibly be. I reached into my jeans pocket but felt only the inside of my pocket. No phone.
Cringing, I sank back into the seat. "Oh, son of a bitch."
I'd always had kind of a problem with swearing. And forgetting things. Important things. Things important to grab right before leaving the house. Things like car keys. Grocery lists. My cellphone.
Compounding my problem of being prone to forgetting things when leaving the house, I wasn't even used to owning and carrying a cellphone. In Stony Rapids, we had both landlines and cellphones, but only a few families had been able to afford cells.
Gray and Estelle had never had much use for them. The one Aunt Mil bought for me, the one I left back at the house, was my first cellphone ever. Now it wasn't going to be able to do me a damned bit of good in getting backup for Grant.
However, I knew he was likely to have his own on him. He usually had his in his pocket.
I looked in his direction out the driver's side window and saw he'd already shifted. "Dammit."
His clothes and all other articles on his person, including his phone, had shifted with him and wouldn't re-materialize until after he'd shifted back.
Well, I figured, it was possible that maybe he'd made a lightning-fast call before shifting. Or, maybe he was really such a strong shifter that he knew he wouldn't need any backup against even a dozen wolves. I had to hope one of those scenarios was the case. There were patrol guards out around the outskirts of Sun Creek, as there always were, but not many of them. It certainly couldn't be guaranteed that one of them would come along at the right time.
We also couldn't count on another bear shifter driving along on the main road out of town, either. Most shifters who had cars and trucks only drove them in the city, not often having reason to leave.
It would just be Grant versus however many wolves were going to attack him.
Even with the windows up, I could still hear howling, though a bit muffled. But still plenty clear enough. Massive in bear form, Grant was an inky outline against the darkened trees on the side of the road, beyond the driver's side of the truck. Moonlight glinted on his black fur. On all fours, he stalked the perimeter of the woods, periodically glancing back to the truck, and me.
It was about this time that I noticed that the keys were still in the truck's ignition. I'd never driven any kind of motor vehicle before, and Grant knew this. Vehicles had been so rare in Stony Rapids that many people never learned to drive, and I'd been no exception.
However, right then, as the wolves' howls drew nearer, each of them sending a little chill
dancing along my spine, it occurred to me that I could try to drive. I'd been a passenger enough times that I thought I might be able to figure it out and do it myself. I might be able to drive myself back to the city, and safety.
I contemplated this for only a second. I wouldn't leave Grant. I couldn't. I wasn't sure what kind of help I'd be able to give him, if any; I wasn't even sure if he'd even need any. But leaving him just didn't seem right. The strong feelings I was developing for him just wouldn't let me. Not to mention that realistically, I'd probably be just as likely to drive the truck into a tree than escape the wolves.
I supposed Grant could have hopped in the truck and driven us both to safety when we'd first heard the wolves. Somehow, I just knew that likely hadn't even crossed his mind. It didn't seem like his style at all, to flee from wolves on his territory. Despite the fact that it would be just him against them.
While Grant paced from the edge of the woods to the front of the truck, where his large form became illuminated by the headlights, and then back again, still glancing at me, the wolves' howls quieted. From literally being raised by wolves, I knew what this meant. They'd assembled somewhere nearby, maybe not even a dozen feet from Grant, and were preparing to attack.
He saw them, or smelled them or sensed them, before I did. He suddenly stopped pacing and peered out into the woods with a growl loud enough that I could hear it even inside the truck. It was menacing enough to send a chill rippling through me, even though Grant was a man who cared for me, obviously, and the growl wasn't meant for me. I couldn't imagine just how threatening the sound seemed to the wolves.
I realized I was clutching the upholstery of the truck seat, my sweaty palms sliding along its surface. One of my hands also felt something else, something hard. I glanced down, realizing it was a screwdriver. I switched from clutching the seat to clutching the screwdriver, the act of clutching some sort of weapon, somehow comforting.
Not a moment later, I turned my focus back to Grant and the woods alongside the road. That’s when I saw the eyes. A pair of glowing green eyes seemingly suspended in the dark space of the woods. Not seemingly suspended for long, though. Next came the glint of moonlight on razor-sharp teeth. The wolf was emerging from the woods, maybe only ten feet from Grant. Grant didn't wait for the wolf to close the distance. Roaring, he charged.
I gripped the screwdriver tighter, making the hard plastic ridges dig into the palm of my hand. My breathing accelerated and I began working hard to keep it at a normal pace. I believed in Grant's strength, but I also knew how bloodthirsty and vicious the wolves could be.
However, it almost immediately became clear that Grant could be vicious himself. Within seconds, a large silver wolf that he'd charged, came literally flying out of the woods, as if slung into the air. Blood matted his fur in several places, and he fell to the road, seemingly unconscious. Maybe even dead. I relaxed my grip on the screwdriver handle just slightly.
I couldn't quite see what was going on in the woods, just blurry dark shapes that seemed to be fighting. Even in the truck, I could hear everything pretty clearly, though. Loud snarls pierced the stillness of the evening, and Grant’s roars answered these snarls. Some of them were so loud and deep, I could feel the ground beneath the truck faintly quaking with vibrations.
Very soon, another silver wolf was tossed out of the woods, just as bloodied and unconscious or dead as the last one had been. Even though he and his friends were wolves from Howell, not Stony Rapids, I looked at him in disgust. All wolves had now come to sicken me, despite my upbringing among them, and despite the fact I'd barely had even a minute to digest Grant's and my earlier conversation and what he'd helped me to realize.
It didn’t even matter. I knew in my gut that he'd been telling the truth. He hadn't killed my adoptive parents, nor had any of the bears. More than likely, it had been Malachi himself, along with his men. It made sense. Perfect sense, actually. So perfect that if I'd had a quiet second to think, I would have felt stupid. I glared at the two fallen silver wolves and spoke through gritted teeth. "Evil. All of you."
I wondered if any other wolves like Gray, wolves with just the touch of compassion in their hearts, even existed. But I doubted it. Gray had likely been the only and the last. Now he was dead, along with Estelle. Just because Malachi hadn't wanted any resistance when it came time to sell me. He was sick.
I didn't have any reason to believe these wolves from Howell were any different. Many of them were distantly related to the wolves from Stony Creek, and half of them were friends with each other, if wolves who just sometimes hunted together and used each other when it suited them could even be considered "friends."
Grant had been right about another thing as well. I'd had to trust the wolves. While I'd been living among them, I'd had to trust them in order to survive and have any sense of security. Part of me felt as if I'd been brainwashed, somehow. And that brainwashing simply hadn't allowed me to consider that Malachi and his men had anything to do with killing Gray and Estelle. It hadn't allowed me to consider that the thought that Grant and the bears had attacked them, didn’t really add up or feel quite right at all.
But no more. Now that Grant had helped me to realize the truth, I would never let some strange, brainwashed sense of loyalty interfere with clear thinking ever again. Now I knew who the enemy was, and it wasn't who I'd thought it was earlier that evening. It wasn't the two men I'd been sharing a bed with, or any of their family members, or any of the bears, period. It was the wolves, and as far as I was concerned, that meant all wolves, whether they were from Stony Rapids, or Howell, or wherever else.
Soon Grant flung two more wolves out of the woods, then another, then another. These wolves were in even worse state than the others had been. Their bodies could only be described as mangled. I relaxed my grip on the screwdriver even further. No matter how many of these Howell wolves were in the woods, it seemed as if Grant was going to make very quick and complete work of them.
I realized why he hadn't jumped in the car and hightailed it back to the city with me. That he was the strongest bear shifter in the community certainly didn't seem like any exaggeration.
Right then, in the midst of all the nearby sounds of growling and snarling, I suddenly developed a very strong urge to have Grant make love to me. I suddenly wanted to feel the hard ridges of his muscles beneath my hands. In fact, after he'd dealt with all the wolves, returned to the truck, I decided I'd kiss him and see what happened after that. Maybe we'd make love right in the truck. With the carcasses of all the wolves he'd taken out all around us.
I was so involved in my sudden little fantasy that I didn't even notice two giant silver wolves creep up to the passenger side of the truck.
CHAPTER SIX
What alerted me was the snarling, low and menacing. I slowly turned my gaze from the woods on the left, where Grant was still tossing out mangled wolves, to the darkness beyond the passenger side window. Two enormous silvery-gray wolves crouched beneath the window, though maybe not really even beneath it. They were so tall, they were crouched flush with the window.
I tightened my grip on the screwdriver in my right hand, fingers suddenly trembling. "Crap."
The wolves' mouths seemed to twist into identical sneers at the same time. Their long teeth glinted in the silvery moonlight. Their canine fangs immediately made me think of pickaxes. Pickaxes that could drive through flesh and bone as if it were butter.
One of the wolves snarled again, a little louder this time, a frothy stream of drool dripping from the side of his mouth. My voice came out in a shaky little whisper.
"Grant. Grant, get over here. Please."
I knew he couldn't hear me. I knew he probably wouldn't have been able to hear me from inside the truck even if I'd shouted. The words I'd uttered had been more of a prayer.
One of the wolves pounced, head-butting the side of the truck. The force of the blow rocked the truck, literally lifting it off its right-side tires for a moment. My teeth clacked together when
the tires connected with the ground again. Both of the wolves were snarling at the same time, their greenish eyes gleaming.
I glanced back in the direction of the woods. "Grant!"
One of the wolves head-butted the truck again, even harder this time, jostling me in my seat. He and the other wolf then glanced at each other and each took a few steps back, seeming to have a plan. I knew they were gearing up for a double-headbutt, one that might even tip the truck, considering their shifter strength.
I knew I should buckle my seat belt in case the truck rolled. I knew I should just sit tight and wait for Grant. I knew he wasn't far and likely had most of the other wolves dealt with by now. I knew he'd be over any minute to take out the two wolves going at the truck.
But I didn't buckle my seat belt, and I didn't sit tight. Because at that moment, watching the wolves as they chomped at the air, snarling, ready to tip the truck, an image of Gray and Estelle flashed in my mind. Gray, in wolf form, shielding Estelle, trying to fend off several different wolves coming at him at once.
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