by Celia Kyle
“It does,” Warren insisted, a strange desperation flickering across his face. “I swear—”
“Okay, assuming werewolves are real, which I don’t believe for a second, I’m not one. How could I possibly be your mate?” She used air quotes around “mate.”
“Don’t forget, I was human too,” Val chimed in. “I thought all this fated mate stuff was just a bunch of hooey at first. But I can tell you, Persia, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The truth of the matter is that I never felt like I fit in anywhere until I landed here. Not when I was on the Dean’s List in college, not when I was making a name for myself in the Army, not even in combat, which I’d always thought was my true calling.”
Persia wanted to pepper her with questions, but giving voice to those thoughts might suggest she believed one tiny iota of what they were saying.
Which she didn’t.
Nope.
Not at all.
“I will admit that when I first met Zeke, I felt nothing but a strong attraction.” Zeke scowled at this and glanced around the room, silently telling everyone to keep that bit of information to themselves. “True, it was stronger than anything I’d ever felt, but I wouldn’t call it life-changing. It felt a bit like if you were to stick a fork in an electrical outlet. You’d get a little singed, maybe fall on your ass, and you’d definitely think, ‘What the fuck just happened?’ But now that I’m a shifter, I can tell you that feeling is intensified, more like grabbing a downed power line with your bare hand. It’s soul-shaking.”
That seemed to mollify Zeke because he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a sweet kiss to her temple.
“Now I do belong,” Val continued. “I don’t just feel it. I know it. I have my mate, my friends, the entire pack, who’ve become my family. My pack mates accept and love me for who I am, potty mouth and all. I’m not going to lie. It’s hard to wrap your mind around, but all I can tell you is that I feel complete now. Like I’ve found my place in the universe. And since I no longer have to search for it, I can relax and enjoy every second of it.”
Val’s speech really hit home with Persia. She’d always felt out of place. Growing up, she’d been a tomboy when her mother had wanted her to be a girly girl. Her father had hoped she’d follow in his footsteps, which she clearly hadn’t. Even the only people she could come close to calling friends were transitory—and most of them were sitting in jail cells at that moment, no doubt hating her guts. The thought of finally belonging somewhere appealed to Persia more than she ever would have imagined. Maybe…
“No, no, no.” She shook her red curls hard enough they bounced against her face. “Stop messing with me, you guys.”
“Do you need proof?” Max stepped close enough for her to see him. “I’d be happy to show you how it’s done.”
Trina’s husband—or mate or whatever he was called—started unbuttoning his shirt, which drew a growl from Warren. Dragging Max out of Persia’s field of vision, he stepped in to take his place.
“If anyone’s going to shift in front of my mate, it’s going to be me!”
Spotty memories of Warren’s body transforming into some kind of mutant creature shot adrenaline through her veins, ratcheting up her heart rate. The terror she’d felt staring into his wild, glowing eyes thirty feet up a tree…which wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. Yet no matter how hard she tried to believe it had all been a dream, she couldn’t erase the images of Warren’s transformation from her mind. She’d been there. She’d seen it. Proof of what they all claimed.
“No, don’t do that shifty thing.” She covered her eyes as if he might do it anyway. “I’ve already seen that show. Twice. I think I’ve met my quota for a lifetime.”
Trina squeezed her shoulder. “Trust your instincts, Persia. Listen to them, even if your rational brain tries to convince you otherwise.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she tried to make sense of it all. She couldn’t deny what she saw on that platform, and all of her instincts screamed that her new friends were telling the truth. But still…
“Hey, I have a thought.” Warren pulled her hand to help her sit up. “Why don’t I show you around, give you a little tour of the pack house? You could get a sense of who we are as a community. No pressure, nothing scary, I promise.”
“Is she okay to walk around?” Val murmured to Trina.
“Sure, just take it easy. No long hikes in the woods, and definitely no more falling down again, okay?”
Persia thought for a moment. Everyone in the room exuded thoughtfulness and caring, so she had no reason to think they were setting her up. Besides, a walk sounded nice after the night she’d had. She nodded her agreement, and then Trina turned to Warren.
“I’m serious, Warren. You need to keep a close eye on her. Agreed?”
Warren’s expression grew steely, and then he uttered a single word that caused the breath in her throat to catch. “Always.”
The double meaning of that word wasn’t lost on her, but she couldn’t unpack what it all meant just then. Slipping to the ground, she reached for Warren’s proffered arm. The moment her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, a current of what felt like electricity pulsed through her body. Like, real, knock-you-out-of-your-shoes electricity. Exactly as Val had described it. Pushing the thought from her mind, she focused on putting each foot in front of the other until they closed in on a large log cabin structure.
“This is the pack house,” Warren explained, as a few people—no wolves—stood on the big wrap-around porch drinking steaming cups of coffee. “Zeke and Val live there full-time, as well as a handful of other pack members. The rest of us have small homes on pack lands, and a few even live in Tremble. In general, we prefer everyone to live on pack lands because it’s safer, but it’s not required.”
“Why is it safer?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Tremble is a nice town, and most of the locals are good people. But out here, we’re hidden from prying eyes and the dangers inherent with humans discovering our existence.”
“Like my dad.”
It wasn’t a question because it made sense. Assuming all of it was true. Which it wasn’t. Couldn’t be.
“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…” Warren stammered, clearly worried he’d offended her.
She gave him a glum smirk. “I know you didn’t. But it’s the truth. Men like my dad are why you feel the need to hide.” She left out the part about his community’s shared delusions.
“Packs are structured much like the military, with a specific hierarchy and strong leadership. We’re all wolves, but we’re not all equal. The Ruling Circle consists of the alpha as the leader, his beta as a sort of right-hand man, and an enforcer who commands the security force, who are called sentries. Is that too much detail?”
“No, I’m picking up what you’re laying down,” she responded as she caught sight of a small van waiting a short distance from the pack house. “Do you have a position in the… pack?”
A proud smile touched his lips. “I’m Zeke’s beta, second in command.”
“Do you ever wish you were the leader?” Most guys saw themselves as alphas, even though most guys weren’t.
“Good lord, no.” He chuckled. “That’s an immense amount of pressure, and despite being new to the job, Zeke’s handling it all really well. We each have our own calling. Val is unique—well, in a lot of ways, but especially because she’s not only the alpha mate, a position that offers a lot of power in itself, but she’s also the pack’s enforcer. Trina’s innate healing abilities make her the perfect healer, and Cassandra…well, Cassandra is a natural born omega.”
“You mean the beautiful, white-haired woman who came in? What’s an omega?”
Warren nodded as they rounded the front porch on their lazy stroll. “It’s hard to explain, but the best I can tell you is that she’s a sort of mystic, or psychic healer, if that sounds better.”
None of it sounded better. In fact, the whole thing was getting weirder and weirder.
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound fake at all. Although, I have to admit, I calmed down pretty fast once she walked in.”
“That’s part of her role as omega.”
“What about you, Warren? Becoming a beta is your raison d’être?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, and she stumbled a few extra steps before turning to face him. What she saw in his eyes scared her. Not in a “I’m about to gobble you up, Little Red Riding Hood” way, but in a “Oh shit, he ain’t playing” kind of way. The way he looked at her flooded her body with heat and need. She almost wished they were back in the treehouse, making out like teenagers.
“No, Persia, it’s not my reason for being. I thought it was, for a long time, but then I caught your scent in Wolf Woods. I waited for you, you know. I smelled you long before I saw you, or even heard your progress. When you stepped out into the clearing, the sun glinted off your hair like it was on fire. My wolf wanted to run to you, but I told him that would scare you. So, we waited. And you came to us. You laid down with us, bared your soul to us. That was when I learned my purpose in life. To be the best damn mate possible.”
The morning bustle going on around them vanished as Persia stared up at him, blinking rapidly as she tried to process his words into something that made sense. It didn’t work. The only explanation for him knowing all of that was that…
“It was you! You really are my woodland friend!”
Part of her felt faint, but another part of her felt excited and joyful and happier than she ever thought possible. Then the reality of it all erased her fledgling smile and replaced it with a frown.
“What?” he asked, peering at her with an intensity that felt almost invasive.
“I dunno, Warren. That seems so… tricky. How can I trust you? You should have told me who—or rather what—you are.”
The intensity softened and he quirked an eyebrow at her. “You mean like how you should have told me you were Dick McNish’s daughter?”
Persia winced and gave him a sheepish grimace. “Touché.”
He tucked her hand back into the crook of his arm and continued their walk, his warm fingers covering her trembling ones. “Besides, considering your reaction to what I am, I’m sure you can understand why I didn’t mention it sooner.”
Vaguely recalling the sheer panic she’d felt the night before and the ear-splitting screams she’d belted out a short time earlier, she had to give him that. “Fair enough.”
A tiny blur of tan and orange tore across the lawn toward them, and Persia wondered what fresh hell was coming at her now. As the creature slowed to run circles around them, she realized it was just a dog. A very small Pomeranian, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Warren laughed and crouched low to allow the pooch to jump in his arms. “Persia, I’d like you to meet another member of our pack, Fang. Fang, meet Persia.”
Fang stretched herself as far as she could to reach Persia without leaving Warren’s arms. Persia scratched the little dog’s ear and moved in close enough for a few puppy kisses. “Nice to meet you, Fang.”
Having properly greeted their guest, the dog leapt from Warren’s arms and tore off to god knew where, leaving Persia amused at the presence of a dog in a supposed wolf pack. But before she could ask about it, a familiar, gruff voice called out to her.
“Morning, Persia!”
Turning, she watched her boss, Hux Davenport, hurrying across the lawn toward them, a small boy with matching features riding on his shoulders. He smiled as they passed and headed for the waiting van.
What.
The.
Hell?
She turned surprised eyes on Warren. “He’s…?”
Warren grinned. “Yup. He’s taking Little Hux to the van that will drive them to school in town. After what that poor kid’s been through, Hux makes a point of escorting him every morning now.”
Too much information had already filled up her brain. She feared there wasn’t enough room for more, so she didn’t ask what the boy had suffered through. Even if she had, her question would have been drowned out by the sound of several more little ones shouting and laughing and generally being excited kids, all heading for the same van. One actually shifted into a tiny wolf pup, mid-stride, leaving a pile of clothes behind.
“What the…” she gasped, shocked to see a human shift in the light of day. It was much as she remembered from the night before, but much less terrifying and infinitely cuter. And so very real.
Warren chuckled softly. “His mom’s going to give him a time out for ruining his school clothes, for sure.”
The children were funny, but the adults running in circles as they tried to herd the hyper kids into the van drew a chuckle from Persia. Even Hux chased after his son, his mini-me giggling as he tried to evade his papa. Meanwhile, tiny little Fang yipped and chased after everyone.
The terror she’d felt that morning melted away entirely. This was just a community, like any other. Well, not quite like any other, but close enough. People who cared and watched out for each other, loving families just trying to get by, folks who just wanted to live their lives without being gunned down on their own land.
“I can’t wait,” Warren murmured as he stared wistfully at the scene.
“For what?”
“To have some pups of our own.”
Cue record scratch.
Pulling her hand back, she stared at him like…well, like he’d just said he wanted to have pups with her.
Pups!
“Excuse me?”
He turned a perplexed look on her. “What?”
“You want to have what with me?”
“Pups. Don’t you want kids?”
Could he really be that dense? “Whether I do or not, I literally found out just minutes ago that an unknown number of humans can turn themselves into fucking werewolves at will, and quite honestly, I’m having a hard enough time wrapping my head around that. Then you dump this crazy ‘fated mate’ thing on me, and now you already have me barefoot and pregnant with wolf babies? You seriously need to slow your roll, Bubba. Big time.”
“I just—” he stammered for a moment, seemingly blown away by her hesitancy. “I just thought now that you knew the truth, you’d understand. That you’d want the claiming bite that will turn you into a wolf and bond us together for eternity.”
Persia snorted, staring at up at the sky in complete disbelief. “You hear yourself. Right? Tell me you hear how crazy that all sounds.”
“Not to me.”
His eyes glittered earnestly, and for a moment a vision of them doddering through their golden years with dozens of grandchildren running circles around them brought a wave of joy to her heart. But then her brain started working again.
“Warren, come on. That’s not how things work. It’s a pretty idea, but it’s just not what happens in the real world. You know what does? Marriages like my parents’. He’s a workaholic who ignores his wife and probably sleeps around on business trips. She’s a spoiled trophy wife who spends all her time—and her husband’s money—on trips around the world, probably also sleeping around the whole way. That’s what a real marriage looks like. Boredom. Loneliness. Resentment. Distance. I don’t want that for myself, Warren. What I want is to stop my father, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
If she didn’t get out of there, her brain might explode. Without thinking about it first, Persia broke away from Warren and hurried up the steps to the school van just as the driver closed the door. The man gave her a curious look but then shrugged and drove away from what Warren had called the pack house.
Taking a seat next to Little Hux in the front row, Persia did her best not to look back. If she did, she might change her mind and ask the driver to let her out. But her gaze didn’t seem to want to obey her command. Turning in her seat, she stared out the back window and her heart cracked in two.
Warren stood alone in the billowing dust, watching helplessly as she was whisked away.
Chapter Seven
teen
Warren stood frozen in place long after the van carrying Persia had disappeared from sight. Even the dust had settled. All the parents had dispersed to go about their daily business, not paying attention to the heartbroken beta watching his mate run from him. Only Fang remained, sitting near his feet. She craned her tiny neck to watch him and whined softly at his distress, but he barely noticed her.
“Good morning again, Warren,” sang a melodic voice he recognized immediately.
Cassandra had a knack for sneaking up on people, though no one suspected that was her intent. She also had a habit of showing up at either the most or least convenient times. Warren had no doubt that was deliberate.
For the first time he could recall, Cassandra’s presence didn’t have a calming effect on him. Fang stopped whining, but his heart continued to ache. When she caught sight of his face, a whisper of a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows where most adults had deeply etched worry lines.
“I take it your tour didn’t go as well as you’d hoped,” she spoke softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Nothing. Not a warming glow spreading through his body. Not even a glimmer of Cassandra’s power could pass through his pain. But her presence did give him an idea. And that allowed a spark of hope to cast a dim light in the darkness.
“Cassandra,” he turned to her with desperation in his eyes. “Make her love me.”
The pack omega didn’t laugh often, but she actually tittered in surprise at his demand. Only once she contained herself did she reply, giving him a sympathetic smile as she realized he’d been serious.
“It doesn’t work that way, Warren.”
“I saw you do it to that hunter guy, Randy Leeper.” He grabbed the hand on his arm and refused to let go. He’d hold on until she made things all better. That was her damn job. “You turned a bloodthirsty hunter into a marshmallow who loves kittens and hugs. It should be a snap to make Persia fall in love with me.”
Cassandra sighed, causing that tiny flame of hope to flicker and dim. “First of all, I wasn’t even sure my powers would transfer to a human, so I can’t say with any certainty how I was able to transform him. But let me assure you, whatever he is now was always waiting just under the surface. All I did was turn his eyes inward, which allowed his true nature to come to the fore. It’s my belief that he’d spent years, maybe all of his life, burying that nature under layers of toxic masculinity.”
