Temptation (Journal of the Wolves of Spruce Hollow)

by Tarrah Betts

  But I knew the truth.

  Roan could be a pain in the ass sometimes though. My mom said I had to listen to him and do whatever he told me to do because he was the pack Beta. But I didn’t like that very much because serious Roan’s rules were never very much fun for anyone and he always put on his Beta face when he interrogated me about school, going out with friends, or after school activities.

  It was annoying and completely unnecessary because I was pretty well behaved as far as teenagers went. Roan thought that he was the boss of the universe because he was pack Beta, but I thought he especially relished being the boss of me.

  There was one topic in particular that Roan gave me the hardest time about though.

  Boys.

  I don’t know what his deal was but Roan didn’t seem to like the idea of me having a boyfriend or going out on dates. At all.

  He would say “No boyfriends until I you’re 20, little girl” and then he would laugh darkly.

  I thought he was kidding but I wasn’t really sure. He teased me about a lot of things.

  Sometimes it felt like Roan was really the parent and made all the decisions and my mom was just someone I lived with.

  It was weird.

  I figured it was because I had no father and my mom was trying to have a male influence in my life or something. Who knows?

  Roan was a Were, which meant he was half human and half wolf. I loved Roan’s wolf, he was awesome. I called him Blackie, but Roan said that he didn’t really have a name, because his wolf was just him in another form. So, I guess his wolf’s name would be Roan too?

  I didn’t care. I still called him Blackie and his wolf didn’t seem to mind either. Roan’s wolf loved me to death. He was like an enormous black dog that liked to chase me around the yard and lick my face whenever he knocked me over.

  Blackie and I were kind of like best buddies. From the moment I was first introduced to him as a kid, it was love at first sight.

  We were inseparable whenever we were together and he liked to follow me around the house and then lay quietly with his head on my lap while I watched tv and ran my fingers through his soft black fur. Sometimes I would stop petting him and he would nudge my hand with his snout, as if to say, “Hey, don’t stop, keep petting me!”

  Blackie liked to fall asleep on my bed too, if my mom let him. She said that he’d get fur all over the sheets. It didn’t matter to me. I loved him and love was worth having a little fur on the sheets.

  Besides, I sort of needed as many friends as I could get. I was kind of considered an outsider here in Spruce Hollow because I wasn’t born here, unlike most of my classmates. Luckily for me, I had been adopted by my mom when I was six years old because both of my biological parents were dead.

  My father was killed overseas in the army when I was just a baby and thank god for photographs because I didn’t have one single memory of him to hold onto.

  So, I had invented some a long time ago and I’d stuck with them my entire life: My father was a brave man who served his country well. He died while saving the life of a fellow soldier from enemy gunfire. He died a hero. He loved me so much, I was the apple of his eye and he used to call me “Daddy’s little princess”.

  He also liked fried chicken and working on cars.

  At least that was the story I’d created for him.

  Sometimes having a fake story to tell people was better than having no story at all.

  My biological mother died when I was five years old from a drug overdose. I didn’t remember her that well either. The stuff I did remember was mostly sad or depressing, so I tried not to think about it too much. I kept those memories tucked away in the little box in the back of my mental closet; you know the box you never open unless you feel like crying? Yeah, that one.

  But unfortunately, the box was not airtight and the memories of my mother would sometimes escape and I would think about her and the things she had done.

  I suspected that I would always remember. Who could forget a life like that? It seemed like my mother was either getting high or crying.

  It was a scary time for me and I never felt safe when I was with her, but I could identify a crack pipe at fifty paces.

  My biological mother used to tell me all the time that she was the way she was because my dad had died. She used to say to me, “If your father hadn’t left us….”, like he had a choice in the matter or something. She never got over his death and eventually, after five long years, the drugs killed her.

  I tried not to think about it, but I remembered the day that I found her on the living room floor one morning with crystal acuity; she was slumped over next to the coffee table filled with needles, pills and a half eaten carton of fried rice.

  I couldn’t wake her up, which wasn’t unusual after one of her benders, so I just turned on the tv and sat on the couch in my pink Minnie Mouse nightgown and ate the rest of the container of rice for breakfast.

  I wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t even aware that anything was wrong because I had seen her passed out before and naively assumed she was sleeping and would wake up…eventually.

  For two whole days I sat next to her dead body watching cartoons.

  It didn’t even occur to me during those two days to go outside our apartment and seek help because I didn’t have the same life that most normal five year olds did. I had never been to play school or daycare and had no knowledge of 911, or of much the outside world at all. I never got to play with other kids, and therefore wasn’t like a typical five year old.

  But I knew my mother’s drug dealer’s name and that you needed to tie off your arm before you injected the needle.

  It wasn’t until the social worker showed up for her weekly visit and called the police that I realized that my mother was dead.

  I didn’t like to think about it. It was a chaotic, scary memory for me.

  You know, they say that my biological mother died of a drug overdose, but I’d rather think that she died of a broken heart.

  My adoptive mother’s name was Valerie but I called her “Mom.” I thought she was a pretty great mom but maybe that’s because my own biological mother never set the bar very high.

  My adoptive mom was kind and she was a hard worker who gave a lot to her job as a business consultant. That, plus she was a werewolf, which made her even cooler.

  Mom’s husband died before I came to live with her. I had only ever seen pictures of him but he looked like he was extremely capable and physically fit, in true typical Were fashion. Mom said he was a wonderful man and I believed her.

  I felt sad for mom sometimes because she was all alone. Weres only had one true mate and are mated until death. I thought it was kind of romantic and sad at the same time. I mean, it must be so intense having this one person in the entire world that is meant only for you.

  I know Roan would pitch a fit if he knew I thought about such things, but I think the sex between two Weres must be pretty damn soul consuming and overwhelming. How could it not be with the one person in the entire world that is just yours?

  It would certainly explain why my mom walked around like half her heart was missing. It must be truly awful for the Were that got left behind and couldn’t ever be with someone else.

  Poor mom.

  Even though I was only a human, I hoped I found someone who could love me with that much intensity someday. Maybe I’d find myself a werewolf husband?

  Like Roan.

  You never know, it could happen.

  He was too old for me right now but werewolves age WAY slower than humans, so eventually I’d catch up to him.

  Roan had a really cute friend named Caver and he wasn’t that much older than me. He was only twenty-one, so I bet I’d catch up to him really fast.

  Too bad Caver was kind of like a big brother to me.

  Everyone that lived on the acreage on the outskirts Riverside was either a werewolf or related to a one somehow. We kept it quiet amongst ourselves, though, to protect the pack.

 
No one would dare say a word to the locals. I think the penalty for telling was like death or something. At least that’s what Roan told me when I was little. I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not but I didn’t want to chance it and therefore never breathed a word about the pack to anyone.

  Somehow I didn’t think the locals would understand if they found out that they were surrounded by a large pack werewolves that shopped at the same grocery story and sent their Were kids to school with the local kids. There was a lot at stake, so it was a pretty big secret.

  I was sixteen and a three quarters now and my aspirations were pretty much the same as any other teenage girl: To marry the high school quarterback (but I guess I would have to ask Roan first if it was okay), live in a nice house surrounded by a white picket fence, have pretty babies and grow old with my handsome husband by my side.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite what every other sixteen-year-old girl wanted but I longed for stability and a family to love. You know, I once read somewhere that a girl tended to marry a man like her father but if you never had a father in your life, what happens then? Do you spend your life looking for a “Daddy”? Maybe that’s where the phrase “She’s got Daddy issues” comes from?

  I had no idea, but I did know that I hadn’t seen Roan outside the auto body shop one bloody time during Math class today and it made listening to Mr. Johnson’s rambling even more unbearable.

  Would this class never end?

  Chapter 3

  ***

  “Roan! Over here!”

  I looked to my left and saw Caver with his arm raised in the air from a corner booth in the crowded bar. I raised my hand in greeting and made my way up to the bar to order two pitchers of beer. I would need them, Weres had a fast metabolism and the alcohol in those two pitchers would burn off so quickly that I would probably order another pitcher before I left for the night.

  I made my way back to the corner booth, pitchers raised above my shoulders to avoid bumping into any of the dancers that littered the dance floor and spilling the beer everywhere. It was a Friday night and the bar was packed with inebriated women with loose morals and guys with a chip on their shoulder looking for a fight.

  I was willing to oblige either one.

  This wasn’t specifically a Were bar but the unmated males of our pack frequently came here after work on Fridays to check out the human females on the dance floor and to have a drink, of course.

  But mostly, we came for the women.

  Weres had a healthy sexual libido and it wasn’t unusual for one of us to leave with one or two the lovely ladies at closing time.

  Technically, I wasn’t “available” right now as I had Andie to occupy me sexually but if I saw something that I liked, that could change awfully fast. It may sound terrible but I really didn’t consider what I had with Andie to be a serious relationship, how could I when technically, I would only ever love Aspen?

  Andie was more of a friend with benefits type of arrangement. I was sure she would tell you differently though. Like every other woman I had ever run across, I’m sure she probably had visions of wedding bells and babies whenever she looked at me.

  I really didn’t consider myself the marrying kind though. I enjoyed my freedom far too much to be tied down to one person and if I didn’t already have a predestined mate, I probably would have never settled down and gotten married.

  I wasn’t worried about Andie trying to trap me into some sort of commitment though. I would never be trapped by the dreaded positive pregnancy test. Andie would never have my child, a fact that was due solely to my Were’s biology.

  Weres could only get their blood bound mates pregnant…period. And right now the only thing my mate was worried about was who was going to take her to the Christmas formal, so I didn’t have to worry about babies any time soon.

  Earlier in the day, Aspen had stopped by the auto body shop right after school to ask me if she could go to this Christmas formal dance thing.

  I was working on replacing the tires on an older model Jeep Cherokee when I felt an odd sensation rush through me and settle into the pit of my stomach.

  It was strange because I had felt the exact same feeling earlier that morning when Aspen walked into the kitchen and sat down next to me at the kitchen table to eat breakfast.

  I didn’t think much of it because Aspen makes me feel all kinds of weird emotions and feelings that I’ve never felt before.

  But here it was again and she wasn’t even around, so it must be something else.

  I put the impact wrench down and walked over to the bay doors to see what or who was out there that might be causing such a strange sensation and it immediately became clear to me, as I spied none other than Aspen walking down the sidewalk from the high school.

  Dammit all, it was her.

  She was the one causing this weird feeling in my stomach. It must be our mating bond and my emotional connection to her that was causing it. I’d never felt it manifest itself in a physical way like that before.

  I ran my hands through my hair in irritation. The bond between us was getting stronger every day and increasingly harder for me to resist. And she wondered why I was so damn short and irritable around her all the time. It was because maintaining a level of propriety between us was difficult work, to say the least.

  I watched her walk along, giggling about god only knows what, with one of her little friends from school. Her friend’s name was Sorcha and they had been best friends since the age of six, when the pack had brought Aspen here to live with Valerie.

  Unfortunately, Sorcha wasn’t part of the pack, she was human and lived in town. Over the years, I had tried to discourage Aspen from forming friendships with the kids in town, especially when she was little because I worried about Aspen spilling the beans about our pack. But Aspen had really taken to Sorcha and grew to love her like a sister over the years.

  There was no way I could take that away from her.

  Aspen looked cute today with her curly hair piled up in a messy, upswept bun and a little plaid skirt. Her legs were still skinny with youth and hadn’t developed into the shapely legs of a full-grown woman yet. She was still way too delicate and fine boned and I found myself wondering for the millionth time if maybe fate had somehow got it wrong this time around?

  How was a tiny little thing like Aspen supposed to take on a hard and panting, full grown male Were in the sexual grasp of a mating frenzy? I had no idea, but I found myself constantly prying her with food and encouraging her to eat more in an attempt to put some meat on her skinny little frame. The last thing I wanted to have to worry about when the time was right, was physically hurting her.

  Aspen crossed the street, pulling Sorcha along with her as I walked back to the Jeep Cherokee. I didn’t want her to know that I’d been watching her. Things were already awkward enough between us, as she grew older and matured into a full-blooded hormonal teenager.

  I knew she was becoming more and more aware of a connection between us. I could see it in the way that she looked at me now. Gone was the look of doe-eyed innocence, only to be replaced with the hungry look of desire and longing.

  I could hear her before I saw her as she walked into the garage bay and called out greetings to Caver and Griff. I knew she was looking around for me but I continued working and didn’t let on that I’d heard her come in.

  “Hi Roan, whatcha doing?” she called out enthusiastically, her face lighting up with an infectious little smile as she spotted me by the Jeep. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help but smile back at her. She was so bubbly and full of life, which was surprising due to the life she’d been forced to endure before she came to live with the pack.

  I refused to look up at her and continued working. I knew what she wanted as her mother had already called me before school was out for the day and given me a head’s up.

  Because I was Aspen’s mate, Valerie deferred to me for pretty much everything relating to Aspen and her care. I was completely responsible for al
l decision-making and paid Valerie “child support” every month for acting as a mother figure to Aspen and giving her a place to live until she was old enough.

  “Umm, I’m working Aspen. What does it look like I’m doing? What do you want?” I said irritably.

  I knew what she wanted from me and I was not looking forward to it. I found it harder and harder to just let her be a kid, the older she got.

  She was extremely interested in boys now and they were very interested right back. How could they not be? She was beautiful. Thinking of young boys looking at, kissing or touching her made me feel extremely jealous and irritable.

  “Well, um, there’s a dance coming up at school and I asked Mom if I could go and she said to ask you. So, can I Roan, huh, please can I?”

  She had so much hope shinning in her beautiful green eyes; I couldn’t even look her in the face. I wanted to say ”No, absolutely not Aspen,” but I knew it would crush her, so I tried to a gentler approach.

  “What kind of dance is it?” I asked as I continued working. “It’s the Christmas formal,” she said excitedly, clasping her hands and bopping up and down.

  I continued working, taking the lug nuts off the Jeep with the impact wrench, still not making eye contact with her.

  “So it’s a dress up dance. What kind of dress are you going to wear and will you be going with a date?” I asked in as bored a tone as I could muster. “I don’t know yet what kind of dress. I guess I could wear the one that I wore to the Christmas brunch at the Alpha’s last year. And no ones asked me to go yet but I’m hoping that Justin Meyers will ask me.”

  Ah, yes, Justin Meyers.

  Aspen had been talking about him since she started high school this year.

  I was worried about her infatuation with Justin Meyers and therefore he was a large beacon on my radar. Even though he was just a teenaged kid, he posed a great threat to me and my future happiness. I didn’t want my mate to get involved in a romantic relationship with him, or anyone else for that matter.