by C. J. Pinard
“Let’s go,” he said gently.
I did as I was told, because really, what other choice did I have? I followed behind Ryder as the pack of wolves went over the brow of the hill and down a slope, which emptied into a large forest, thick with lush green pine trees.
That was the only thing I remembered. The next morning I woke in the warmth of my own bed, but I was naked and covered in mud, pine needles… and blood.
So much blood.
Chapter 2
I sat bolt upright in my filthy bed as soon as my brain caught up with what time of the day it was. A football game… Ryder… the hot make-out session… the pain… the wolf.
Looking down at my body, I could see mud and dirt covering almost every inch of me. Raising my hands up, I gasped in horror at the red, caked-on blood that blanketed them. Every fingernail had a half-moon of red and black under each one. I leapt from my bed and went to open my bedroom door when I realized I was naked. I couldn’t just walk down the hall like this when I had two older brothers who still lived at home.
Losers.
Running over to my phone, which was muddy as it sat on my bedside table, I could see it was after ten in the morning. Those lazy jerks were probably still sleeping, but I couldn’t risk it. Walking to my dresser, I opened the middle drawer and grabbed an oversized T-shirt. But before slipping it on, I slowly—and foolishly—went to my full-length mirror and gazed at my reflection. I couldn’t control the gasp that escaped my lips. Filth covered me from my feet to my head. Clumps of mud were tangled in my long, blonde hair, and my lips and hands were covered in dried, dark-red blood.
My eyes welled up and my bottom lip wobbled. What was going on? I was hoping I had dreamed what had happened last night… but that was not the case. The proof of what I’d done and what I was—it was staring at me in the face, mocking my naivety.
The embarrassment of not knowing what I was turned into anger. Was I really a werewolf? That stuff just wasn’t real. It was for cheesy teen romance movies and horror novels.
Tossing the shirt over my head, I flung open my bedroom door, stomped down the hall, and went into the bathroom, taking the longest, hottest shower I could stand.
My phone showed I had texts. I rubbed lotion over my skin—as it was so extremely dry here in Colorado—and read the texts.
The first one from an unknown number:
It’s me, Ryder. Please call me. I am worried about you.
How had he gotten my number, and furthermore, did I really want to talk to him? The schoolgirl crush I had on him seemed so silly now. I was involved in much deeper shit, and while I was still numb and in shock from what had happened last night, I was also very scared.
Unraveling the towel from my hair, I tossed it onto the floor and began absently brushing out my locks, debating my dilemma.
Should I call him? I guess I’d have to. Maybe he can explain to me what the hell happened last night.
Oh, my God! Maybe he or one of his idiot friends put something in my drink. Maybe I hallucinated the whole thing.
But then there was the whole waking-up-covered-in-mud-and-blood-thing.
Crap.
Deciding I had nothing to lose at this point, and desperately wanting answers, I replied to his text: Come pick me up. 485 Pine Cone Lane. I’ll be waiting out front.
His response came a minute later: You got it, beautiful.
I couldn’t keep the smile from my face at him calling me beautiful. How could he think that, when I had turned into an overgrown dog last night?
So gross.
After pinning up my wet hair, I tugged on a pair of jean shorts and a light hoodie. I slid into my tennis shoes without socks, threw on some lip gloss and mascara, and bounded down the stairs while sliding my cell into my back pocket.
“Hi, sweetie. Did you sleep well?” my mom asked, stacking pancakes on a plate from the steaming griddle on the stove.
I snorted and shook my head. “Not really.”
My dad looked up from his tablet and quirked an eyebrow at me. They both stared at me expectantly, that same look they gave me every morning, as if they were waiting for me to reveal some kind of news to them.
I grabbed a pancake from the stack and rolled it up like a tortilla. I took a bite and asked around a mouthful, “What?”
“You okay?” Dad asked.
I lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Yeah, why?”
“No reason,” he said, putting his attention back on his brand new iPad.
I shook my head, grabbed my purse from the coffee table where I had obviously left it, and made my way to the front door. No way was I going to tell my parents about last night. They’d institutionalize me.
“Where are you going, Ayla?” asked Mom.
“Out with friends,” I replied, racing out the front door and closing it behind me.
Strangely, our drive was done in silence. I didn’t even ask where we were going, because I didn’t care. I just needed answers, and with the loud country music playing, it wasn’t exactly conversation atmosphere.
Even through his sunglasses, I caught him occasionally looking sideways at me. I wanted to return his glances, but I just kept my eyes on the road as he drove, the cool morning air from my open window feeling wonderful against the warm Colorado sun blazing in the sky.
Ryder finally stopped at a nearby park and pulled the car into a spot. He killed the engine and looked over at me. “Let’s go sit on the picnic benches.”
I nodded, and reached for the handle to get out, but Ryder had already made it to my side of the car before I could fully get the door open.
“How did you…?”
He just threw me his lopsided grin and offered me a hand, which I took, and then he closed the car door, arming the alarm.
Walking hand-in-hand, we headed toward the mostly deserted picnic tables. As we sat, I could see we had a perfect view of the mountains to our left, the playground with its colorful equipment in front of us, and random barbeque grillers surrounded by stone enclosures were scattered throughout the picnic table area.
Ryder was still holding my hand.
I looked down at it, then up into his eyes. Without thinking, I reached up and pulled his black sunglasses from his face, folded them, and set them on the picnic table.
“What the hell happened last night?” I finally asked after studying his face a little bit too long.
“I knew you had to have questions, and believe it or not, I have some, too. But you first.”
I laughed nervously. “I already asked. What the hell happened last night?”
His warm hand interlaced with mine was distracting, but I wouldn’t let it deter me from getting the answers I so desperately sought, as much as it was thrilling me to be touching Ryder, having his full attention. Just as I had wanted the entire school year.
“You’re a werewolf, Ayla. What I can’t believe is that you seemed to have no knowledge of this last night. I spent all night feeling sorry for you. I couldn’t believe it.”
I felt a little frustrated by his answer, mostly because I didn’t want to believe it—didn’t want to think I could be some disgusting hairy animal.
“Ryder,” I laughed, “I cannot be a werewolf. First off, I don’t believe in that stuff. Did you slip LSD in my drink or something?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Did you see me slip anything in your soda?”
“Uh, no, of course not.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Did you wake up covered in blood and dirt?”
I nodded, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. “And I was naked. Where are my clothes?”
He laughed, his eyes dancing with amusement. “In the trash can, and now ashes, after I burned them. They were nothing but shreds.”
My eyes went big. “How did I get home?”
“Your brother took you home.”
I stood up from the bench and shrieked. “What?”
He laughed again as if this was some big joke. “Aden is always at o
ur shifts. And before you freak out over the naked thing, he always keeps extra clothes and blankets in his trunk. He wrapped you up like a burrito in his Broncos blanket and put you in the backseat after we hunted. Said he was going to put you in bed this morning.”
Mortification didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. The heat that flushed my cheeks must have rivalled the twisty red slide that was gleaming under the sun on the playground in front of me.
I put my hand to my forehead and began to pace. “I don’t understand. My brother is a ‘werewolf’ too?” I asked, making air quotes with my fingers.
Ryder laughed again and walked over to me, putting both hands on my shoulders to stop my pacing. With the tip of one finger, he lifted my chin so I had to look up at him. Embarrassed, upset, confused, and just mortified in general, my bottom lip and chin trembled as tears threatened along my lashes.
“Ayla, your whole family are wolves. How did you not know? That is what I don’t understand—how did you not know this was going to happen? Your parents had a responsibility to warn you. I was going to ask Aden about it, but I wanted to talk to you first.”
I wiped away a traitorous tear that cascaded down my cheek. “Ryder, don’t you think I would know if my family transformed into wolves—let me guess—during every full moon?”
He grinned and nodded. “Yes, it does happen only during the full moon. The very first shift happens between sixteen and seventeen years old. But you are almost eighteen, aren’t you?”
I shook my head with a weak smile. “Not for another eleven months.”
“Wow, late bloomer, like I said.”
“Thanks,” I answered dryly.
“What else do you have questions about?” he asked sincerely.
I looked into his eyes, which seemed so normal and friendly, and asked, “Who else is a wolf? The whole football team?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Nah, like half. Me, Benson, and about seven others. Since you’ve had your first shift, you’ll now be able to identify other wolves by scent.”
My eyes went big. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Yes, we are attracted to each other because I am drawn to your scent just like you are drawn to mine.”
“So you only like me—are attracted to me—because I’m a female wolf?” I made a face.
He shook his head and rubbed his finger over my hand. “No, that’s not why I’m attracted to you that way.”
That made me blush. “Um, okay.”
He brushed some hair out of my face. “Everything will be okay, I promise.” He then began to absently run his fingers along my jaw, my bottom lip, and my breath caught in my throat.
“When is this going to happen again?” I asked on a whisper.
He hesitated a little before he answered, “Tonight.”
Pulling away, I groaned. “Oh no.”
An angry, silent ride home was all Ryder got after I asked him to take me home. I couldn’t recall ever being this upset—but I wasn’t mad at Ryder. I was angry at someone else. I mumbled my thanks to Ryder as he dropped me off, and as I stormed through my house, taking the steps two at a time, I raged down the hall and flung open Aden’s door to find him on his bed watching TV with his phone in his hand.
His eyes grew large as he immediately sprung from the bed, and said, “Ayla, what are you—”
I pounced on him immediately, knocking him to the floor and screaming the worst obscenities I could think of at him, my fists swinging wildly as he put his own arms up to block my blows. He was stripped to the waist in nothing but sweatpants, his bare chest catching my fists’ assaults.
“Ayla, stop!” he yelled. “Stop hitting me! What are you doing?”
“Why didn’t you tell me, you asshole?” I screamed, my hands still working him like a solid-muscle punching bag. “I hate you, Aden. I hate you!”
He finally got the upper hand, shoving me off him. I landed on my back and then he straddled me, pinning my arms to the floor. “Calm the fuck down, Ay. Just listen to me, all right? And for God’s sake, keep your damn voice down!”
He slowly lifted himself from me and went over and shut his door.
I didn’t move, I just lay on the floor, already feeling defeated as more infuriating tears stung my eyes and slid down my face to soak my ears and hair.
He offered me a hand up, but I ignored it, standing on my own, and then curling up on the edge of his bed, wrapping my arms around my legs. “How could you?” I asked on a grief-filled whisper.
Raking a hand through his sandy-blond hair, he blew out a breath and looked at me with sympathy in his dark blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I should have said something. I just couldn’t figure out how to start that conversation.”
“So what about Austyn? He couldn’t tell me?” I asked, referring to my other brother, the one who was just eighteen months older than me, and younger than Aden.
“Pshhtt,” he scoffed. “That idiot can’t even piss in the toilet without missing. I’m the eldest, I should have told you. I’m sorry, Ay.”
My shoulders slumped in defeat. “So Austyn is a wolf, too? He was there last night?”
He nodded.
“And Mom and Dad have no idea?”
He shook his head. “No clue.”
“So… they’re not wolves?” I asked.
Aden shook his head again. “No. They are human. Totally clueless.”
What I had failed to mention to Ryder earlier was that my two brothers and I were adopted as babies. Our biological mother had popped out the three of us all within a four-year period and had left us on a doorstep of a church. Our adoptive parents had been unable to have children and were thrilled at the opportunity to adopt three small kids to raise as their own.
I had always wondered how our mother could have done that to us. We were all about eighteen months apart in age and very close, but now that I knew the truth about what we were, I began to have other types of thoughts and theories swirl in my head. I just knew in my gut that being a wolf had something to do with her abandoning us. Hell, maybe she was even dead.
“Ryder says we’re purebloods,” Aden said out of nowhere.
I looked at him, confusion clouding my brain as I struggled to understand what he meant. “Huh?”
“I can tell by the look on your face that you are wondering where we came from.”
“She’s not the only one,” came Austyn’s voice from the doorway.
We both turned to look at our middle brother, who looked so much like the both of us with his dark-blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin.
Aden sighed and turned back to me, but spoke to Austyn. “I already told you, dude, but feel free to listen again.”
“Well, all right!” he said excitedly. Sadly, Austyn wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, and sometimes things went right over his head.
Okay, things went over his head ALL the time. But I loved the silly boy.
Aden began to pace his room, looking entirely too tired for an almost twenty-one-year-old. He glared the both of us.
“Our biological mom was, obviously, a wolf. She was killed not long after we were left at that church.”
Disbelief and shock ricocheted though me. “What? How do you know this?”
Aden eyed at us, then, seeming unsure of himself, but knowing he had to keep talking, he said, “A few months ago, I was in downtown Denver and caught a familiar scent. I didn’t know why it was familiar, but I knew I had to follow it. It led me to a rundown house in a not-so-good neighborhood. I stood outside of it, wondering what to do. Apparently, I had stood there so long, that the sun had begun to set, and darkness set it. That’s when he came outside.”
“Who?” I asked, totally enraptured in my brother’s story now.
Aden flicked his gaze between me and Austyn, then said, “Our uncle, apparently.”
We both gasped.
“He had caught my scent, too, knew somehow we were related to him. He violently yanked me into the house and demanded t
o know what I was doing there, and who had sent me. I thought the guy was old, paranoid, and frankly, ridiculous. I told him I had no ulterior motives for being there except for a scent I’d caught. I had no issues telling him about the scent, since I’d already seen his eyes glow yellow in the darkness before he’d pulled me in his house. Between that and his scent, I knew he was a wolf.
“I let him smell me—really smell me—and then demanded he tell me what the hell was going on. He then asked me a bunch of weird questions like when I was born and where I lived, then he asked my name, and what pack I belonged to. I only told him my first name and the year I was born. It was after that I found out that he was, in fact, our uncle, our mother’s brother. He explained that our mother had been on the run from an abusive Alpha she’d mated with, and when she grew tired of running with three babies, she finally gave up and left us at the biggest Catholic cathedral in Denver, hoping we’d have good lives. He told me that it had broken her to do that, and once we were out of her hands, she stopped running. Eventually, this Alpha had caught up with her, demanding to know where his children were. When she could give him no answer, he killed her, and he hasn’t been seen since. His pack had voted to outcast him, and after that had voted in a new Alpha.”
I slumped down the side of the bed, and then my butt hit the floor. I put my forehead to my knees and fought back the grief and shock that enveloped me.
“That’s some fucked-up shit,” Austyn said, sounding incredulous.
Aden let out a humorless chuckle. “Yes, little bro, it is for sure.”
Lifting my head from my knees, my eyes blurry with unshed tears, I looked at my brothers and said, “I love our parents, but I really was hoping to meet our biological mom one day. Let her know what a good life we’ve had and let her know she did the right thing by us, regardless of her circumstances. Maybe get to know her, listen to her story.” The tears could not be contained anymore. They, again for the second time that day, fell unchecked and unabashed down my cheeks. I felt angry that I was crying yet again.
