But then again, in my depressed state, I found everything tedious. But even as I was lost within my boredom, I didn’t want to escape into the haze of my medications. I didn’t want all those side effects the wolf hated. Who in their right mind would want to have fits or experience strange random patches of fur?
And after all, what was there to be anxious about, when I already had a broken heart?
My parents didn’t notice the growing pile of treasures in my closet. I held them close, like a secret stash of drug money. The tiny box of Precious Moments from the Precious Percy collection. A deal at $10.99 apiece. (Well, at my current budget, it was a deal.) Right beside it I hid an envelope of antique-like Christmas cards and a tiny dove ornament made in Waterford crystal.
Back then, Grandma was my constant companion. At least until my father announced that particular July day that I would accompany the family out to the forest.
“Get washed up and get dressed.” My father crossed his arms and waited by my doorway. “We’re heading out as a family to Hope Park.”
“But how can we go out? We don’t have any food to bring,” I said.
We never went to a gathering of werewolves without my mother cooking some large beast of burden.
“We’ll pick up something,” he grumbled before he left my room.
“Pick up something?” I peered out of my room, wondering at the sacrilege we were about to commit. My mother always cooked.
As it turned out, my mother still managed to prepare a chilled dish. She scraped together an instant cheesecake topped with fresh jam, with time to spare. It wasn’t the big meat dish she would have preferred to bring. But from the way young pups approached her, I knew they smelled a winner—especially compared to old Mrs. Halverstein’s pea soup.
An hour and a half later, the whole family reached the park to find all the werewolves gathered together for fellowship and food.
I sat at a picnic table, next to Grandma. Of course, I searched the scene to see if Thorn would come, but as far as I could tell, he wasn’t there—I saw only Will and Old Farley. The Holdens, minus Erica, brooded at their table next to the Granthams.
Werewolves are all about hierarchy, even at a picnic. The closer a family’s table was to the Granthams’, the higher their place within the pack.
The lowest families surrounded the more important ones under the gazebo roof. Luckily for my grandmother, my family had a comfortable spot in the shade.
From the way my father shook hands and chatted with the others, I wondered what was up. Compared to the grumbling leader of the pack, he seemed jovial.
And I didn’t expect my father to approach Farley Grantham halfway into the meal. My heartbeat quickened when my father glanced back in my direction and smiled. What the hell was he doing?
I clenched my fists and couldn’t suppress the chill that ran down my spine. It spread across my chest and constricted my breathing.
“Natalya.” My father gestured for me to come to him.
I didn’t move so my grandmother nudged me. “Listen to your papa, Natalya.”
With unsteady feet, I stood and walked over to my father. I had to force every step forward. The scraping of my shoes against the cement thundered against the back of my skull.
I joined my father, who now stood next to Rex. Thorn’s childhood friend grinned at me as his eyes roamed over my form.
Good God, no way.
“As you can see, Farley, my daughter would make a fine mate for Rex.” My father placed his hand on my shoulder and paused when he detected my rapid heartbeat. His eyes narrowed and the side of his mouth twitched.
My lips parted as my hands began to shake.
I’d recently lost Thorn and now they wanted to pass me along to Rex as if I were some bowling ball that could be traded among teams?
Farley examined me as well. His brows lowered while he sat back against the lawn chair. Not good.
I wanted to vomit. I wanted to purge my body of the contents of my stomach as well as the fear and angst from my loss. And now my family was prepared to toss me away in hopes that marriage with Rex would heal me.
“Nat?” Rex leaned toward me with a frown.
I took a step back. “No! Don’t touch me! Stay away from me!” I hissed.
“What’s wrong with you, girl?” Farley snapped.
Light-headed and ready to hurl the cheesecake my mother had made, I continued to step backward until I fell on the kids’ table. I collapsed on their plates of food, knocking everything to the ground. My mouth refused to blurt apologies. I had to flee. And anyone in my way, including my mother, would be pushed aside.
“Stop it, Nat! Calm down.” My father tried to placate me. To hold my arms as I flailed and jerked. The whole moment felt surreal, as if I stood to the side and watched another person fall over the edge and plunge into darkness.
When I woke up at home on the couch, our home was full of tension. I expected to find my grandmother close to me, but only my father and mother waited. Each of them sat in chairs and peered at me. From the trail of her mascara, I knew my mother had shed tears. Whether it was from the embarrassment of what had happened or from the personal pain she felt over my full-blown panic attack, I didn’t know.
I sat up with my chin touching my chest. After one glance I couldn’t look at them anymore. The wave of disappointment from my father doused me like ice water.
“I honestly thought when you came home that your brief bout of loneliness was due to Thorn leaving. A beautiful girl like my daughter would pick herself up. I mean, she had a job in New York, a career.” He sighed. “All those events from your childhood, I thought you’d gone past that.”
But I hadn’t. My coping skills had failed, and the husk that was left was a broken woman who didn’t want a new man.
“Farley called me after we brought you home. He told me you’re no longer welcome in the pack.”
Even though I sat on the couch, the floor left my feet. The delicate string that attached me to the other wolves in the pack had been severed. Not only had I lost Thorn, but I’d lost my pack as well. I’d lost the special bond that tied me to the men, women, and children of South Toms River. Thanks to Farley, any respect I had as an adult had been wiped away overnight. I was no better than a rogue.
The next morning everything changed. Upset over the shame I’d brought on my family, my father didn’t speak to me or acknowledge my presence. My mother followed my father’s lead, albeit with slight reluctance. The only two people who treated me the same were my grandmother and Alex. Now that I think about these events, I completely understand why I left. How it happened that, a year after that fateful summer, I had my cottage and a position at The Bends. With my ornaments around me and a job helping Bill organize his place, I’d found a crutch.
A crutch that had held me up, however precariously, until Thorn had returned to South Toms River.
Chapter 15
Alpha males like Thorn could order me around all they wanted. Face-to-face anyway. But as a rogue werewolf, I had a distinct advantage that I could exploit. I didn’t have to follow the pack—unless I wanted to. No words could prevent me from leaving the house twenty minutes later. No one could stop me from jumping into my car and driving south via the Garden State Parkway.
My father had taught my brother and me tracking skills. Fyodor Stravinsky might’ve lived in the suburbs for the last few years, but before that, he’d rubbed hairy elbows with some shady individuals—powerful men and women who needed werewolves to do the dirty work humans couldn’t do. Why pay three men as bodyguards when one werewolf could do it?
After Thorn and my father left the house, I expected them to meet my uncles and a few cousins at the local truck stop north of here. When we needed to round up the troops, we’d gather our supplies before heading out.
The Four Winds Roadside Eatery was a family-owned business run by wind witches. As I’d grown up I’d never enjoyed the Eatery’s “rustic” charm, but the Stravinsky brood loved
the generous portion sizes at this supernatural establishment. Any werewolf who could tolerate the conditions of the place always left with a full belly. Unfortunately, I’d crossed it off my tolerable list a long time ago.
I pulled into the parking lot and made a beeline for the restaurant.
I scanned the place, spotting an array of both humans and supernaturals. The decor bordered on eclectic, with a mishmash of red and green seats and worn white tables. The witches had tried to appeal to their supernatural customers by hanging enchanted paintings on the wall. Why bother watching the old TV they had when you could stare at a raging sea battle? The rest of the wall space had vases, jars, and containers full of who-knows-what on haphazard shelving. Their creative wall scheme still didn’t make me want to eat here.
The wind witch hostess tried to offer me a booth, but I declined.
My uncle Boris always wears the most disgusting aftershave; it has the same effects as pepper spray. Whenever I tease him about it he replies, “Hey, I haven’t heard any complaints.” I tell him that maybe the fog of death around him keeps everyone too far away to complain in the first place. Uncle Boris had been here recently, but they’d left already. Based on the strength of the stench, I guessed that it had been about ten minutes ago.
Two messy tables, which had been pushed together in the back, caught my eye. One plate had a half-eaten pastrami sandwich with toasted bread and an overflowing cup of mustard on the side for dunking. Yep, my dad had been here.
Time to check in with the locals. I approached a waitress named Gertie who worked the busy counter. As the eldest of three sisters, gray-haired Gertie had a generous waistline that she miraculously managed to fit behind the counter.
With a grimace, I squeezed in at the counter between a greasy warlock drifter and a wizard truck driver who also needed a shower.
“Hey, Gertie. Long time no see.” I pushed a smile onto my face.
“Natalya. It’s been years.” Her eyes brightened. “Have a seat and I’ll get you the Hairy Navel special.”
The Hairy Navel special? I’ll pass. “Thanks, but no thanks. Has my dad been here recently?”
“They came in, all right. Didn’t leave much of a tip, though.”
I slid a ten-dollar bill across the counter. They’d definitely been here. My uncles still thought 10 percent was an adequate tip.
She grinned and dropped the money in her shirt pocket. “I do recall hearing about a park south of here. Wharton State Park.” A customer asked for ketchup, so she briefly left to fetch it. When she returned, she offered a final piece of information. “One man in particular, a handsome fella, said something about the swamps along the Batsto River.”
The pack had run in the park a few times in the past. Not often, though, since we have closer places. As the largest state park in New Jersey, Wharton has plenty of hiding places—over 100,000 acres of lakes, swamps, and thickets of trees. Far too big for me to sweep alone. Especially in my condition. But my brother’s life was at stake. If I had twenty panic attacks, I was prepared to face every one of them while traipsing through the swamps. I had to move quickly to keep track of the men.
The whole trip would take an hour at the current speed limit down the Garden State Parkway. But since I was in a hurry, the speed limit might slip my mind once or twice. Time was a luxury I couldn’t waste. The men would likely enter along the access road to the south. From there they’d eventually reach the river. If I gave them too much of a head start, I’d lose them for good.
An hour and a half later, I sat in the car, with the setting sun at my back.
I found not a single clue the entire way. None of the gas stations had a discernable scent. The gas station clerks hadn’t seen anyone either. I gazed out the window to see campers driving by. They all moved with a purpose, a purpose I wished I possessed. I didn’t want to find Alex by myself.
I tried to take cleansing breaths. To remember how much I loved Alex. How I would endure anything for him. My gaze went to the pines and cedars beyond the unpaved road.
After a few minutes, I opened the door and climbed out of the car—only to find Thorn leaning against the side. Clad in a jacket, T-shirt, and jeans, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me with an amused expression.
I rolled my eyes. “How nice of you to join me.”
“One of your cousins kept telling me you’d never follow us.” He slowly approached, his gaze never leaving mine. “But we both know how stubborn you can be when you can’t control a situation.”
“We’ve already discussed this. Don’t act surprised.”
He laughed, revealing a smile that set my heart pounding. “I never said anything about being surprised. I know you, Natalya. Matter of fact, you’re pretty predictable by now.”
We didn’t have time for this little chitchat, but I refused to let him have the high ground. “If I’m so easy to read, why haven’t you read me yet? Besides predicting my next move, why not predict what I want? What I need?” I closed the distance between us. Close enough for our lips to brush if I wanted them to.
He didn’t budge. Thorn never backed down from my challenges. I dared him to speak. We stood nose to nose. Eye to eye. All he had to do was ask me to follow him into the forest and I’d surrender to him. He refused to do the same for me.
Finally, I managed to whisper, “You’re a coward.”
“Cowards choose to run.” His warm breath fanned my face. “I’m still standing here.”
Five years ago, this type of standoff would’ve ended with me naked and ravished on the ground. He’d close the distance between us with a kiss. An endless, dizzying embrace where hands reached for buttons, tore open shirts—anything to end the separation. But now that wouldn’t happen. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, he’d resumed his spot leaning against the side of the car.
The wolf within me whined. Unable to placate my hunger, I got my backpack from the car, all the while trying not to think about Thorn. “Where’s the search party assembled?” While I stuffed a few things into the bag, I tried to cool my heated blood. “Perhaps if you’d been around instead of hiding out at the Grantham cabin, my brother wouldn’t have been kidnapped.”
I expected him to be angry, but his voice was that of a protector. “You may not see me, but I’m always around.”
My grip on the backpack faltered, but I managed to grab it and head for the trees. Thorn followed close behind.
Any minute now, he’d tell me which way to go. Especially since I didn’t know which parts of the park he’d already visited. But I suspected from the way he strolled behind me that he expected me to turn and ask for directions sooner or later.
My gaze went to the damp ground to look for tracks or a hint of a scent. My father always said, “Keep your eyes and nose on the land and your ears alert for danger.” Right now my only danger walked behind me.
Ten minutes later, I picked up the trail. It wasn’t too difficult, since the men had taken a narrow path right off the muddy road. Their level of stealth included discarded cigarette butts and two beer cans.
Less than an hour later, darkness surrounded us as we left the trail and entered the forest. The moon disappeared under the cloud cover. At first, I cringed every time my tennis shoes stepped into squishy mud. This whole place squirmed with life. Everything was wet and the rain-soaked earth stank. Small animals scurried about. A family of beavers prepared their winter lodge to the north of us. The chill in the air had driven the insects away, but anything nocturnal like wolves would lurk in the shadows hunting for prey—like us.
By the time we spotted my father’s camp, the sky had opened to pouring rain. With no moonlight, the shadows around us deepened. The trees provided minimal protection. I’d packed an umbrella, but who the hell used an umbrella in the forest? Thorn paid the rain no mind while I threw on a poncho. The weather slowed our progress. The damn wind, bitter and cold, stung my face as the lights from their lanterns grew brighter.
Before I could make out
their forms, Thorn grabbed my poncho. “Don’t!”
His low hiss pierced me as he pushed me behind a tree. A fresh scent came from downwind. My hands clenched into fists while my body threatened to initiate the change. Our enemies’ scent, very faint, brushed against my nose. The Long Island werewolves had anticipated our attack and infiltrated the camp. Oh, shit.
For once I was proud of my uncles—they’d picked a position that we could approach from downwind. I tossed the backpack to the side. Time to play.
Thorn sank against the thick oak tree, his hazel eyes darkening. He slinked along the ground with his back arched and I followed suit. The rain muffled the sounds of our approach. After ten more feet, I could make out the Stravinsky men.
Their captors had tied them up and set them in a single-file line. My younger cousins sat hunched over as the rain pelted them, but my father and uncles stared down the Long Island werewolves. They’d been caught by surprise. From the way they’d tied my father with painful silver-threaded ropes, they meant business.
The sight of my brother was my undoing. He lay bound like an animal not far from the rest of my family. They’d tied him in the manner used by warlocks. A small number of those black magic–wielding nuts collect werewolves as protectors and in the worst cases use us for spells. As I looked from the oversized muzzle covering his mouth to the enchanted ropes that bound his wrists to his ankles, I could hear my mother cursing the men who’d constructed the bindings. They were all magical tools to harness and constrain the raw power of my kind, to the point that even if Alex transformed, he wouldn’t be able to escape.
My canines filled my mouth as the cold rain hit my poncho. How dare they do this to my family? My gaze swept over the Long Island werewolves. Our two against their six didn’t look good. I paused. A sliver of fear clamped down on my legs. The forest around me spun in circles as my chest tightened. Not now. Not now. A part of me screamed that I didn’t belong out here. What the hell was I doing out in the forest, in the rain, crawling through the dirt? I wasn’t ready for this. My fists clenched like tightly coiled rubber bands and threatened to snap as I prayed for release. I’d pushed myself too hard, too soon.
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