13. Silas
Chapter 13
Silas
T he next two days were some of the best Silas could remember.
He woke up the first morning wrapped around Sammy. He really had nearly squashed him, but when Silas loosened his hold and gave Sammy a bit more room to breathe, he’d made the most adorable humph sound, still half dreaming, and rolled into Silas’ arms again, hooking their legs together and drifting back to sleep.
Silas felt like a giant hound, unable to move because a kitten had curled up in its fur for an afternoon nap. He wasn’t complaining, though.
Except they both had morning wood.
Just as he’d decided to nudge Sammy awake so they could take care of that problem together, someone banged loudly on the bedroom door.
“Breakfast will be hot in fifteen minutes, and then we’re going running! Sort yourselves out!” Finn shouted, loud enough to be heard through the walls.
“I’ll sort you out,” Silas grumbled back, even though Finn wouldn’t be able to hear.
“Oh my God, he’s a morning person, isn’t he? You can hear it in his voice,” Sammy said sleepily, shuddering. “If I’d known that, I would have protested harder when he and Jaime got together.”
He pulled the covers further up over his head.
Silas chuckled, rubbing his cheek through Sammy’s hair. “Come on, love. Food awaits. And then we’ll go for a run. It’s actually a lot of fun,” he said, tossing the duvet back and swinging his legs to the floor.
Sammy grabbed the covers Silas had discarded and wrapped himself up even more. He looked like the most adorable grumpy burrito Silas had ever seen.
Fuck, I hope Finn is making breakfast burritos with those leftover tortillas…
“I don’t know who you think you shared a bed with last night, but it certainly wasn’t someone who would agree to go running . In the morning. When it’s cold.”
Sammy spit the words like Silas had suggested they spend the morning kicking puppies.
He chuckled. “You won’t be running, love. You and Jaime can take the snowmobiles. But the rest of us need to stretch our legs, or else we’ll get grouchy. Well, Finn will get more grouchy.”
Sammy mumbled something under his breath inside the blanket burrito, so Silas reached over to gently prod him until he got out of bed—only to discover that Sammy was ticklish.
And that he giggled.
A sly grin stretched his face, and Silas all but tickled Sammy out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. His laughter ignited little gas lamps of warmth in Silas’ mind, a path to follow home.
If someone had asked him a year ago what his favorite thing to do was, Silas would have said running in his wolf form with his family.
And then eating a lot of food.
The rush of speeding through the valley on all four legs, stretching out his gait as far as he could while he and Finn danced in and out of the shallow river rapids or barreled through a drift of fresh snow, his parents moseying along behind at their own pace, was unparalleled.
Until today.
Today, he experienced what all of that felt like with his mate right alongside him.
That was his favorite thing.
Watching Sammy slowly wake up over a cup of coffee and a stack of Finn’s chocolate chip pancakes was a close second, though.
Silas and Finn loped along behind the snowmobiles for a few minutes while Sammy and Jaime adjusted to how they drove. When Sammy began accidentally kicking up snow all over him, Silas picked up the pace, nipping at Finn’s heels until he joined.
Yipping at Sammy as he passed, Silas bolted ahead faster than he’d pushed himself in a long time.
And maybe he was showing off a little, so what?
Hours later, when his legs were pleasantly sore and Silas felt like he wouldn’t be able to get back up if he laid down, they called it quits. Lazing around the house for the rest of the day, they binged a season of The Great British Bake Off and ate cheddar brats for dinner with a mountain of mashed potatoes on the side.
Sammy passed out on the couch afterward, and Silas carried him up to bed, just like he had the first night he’d brought him home.
Curled up in a too-small, cozy bed with Sammy after spending a full day with his family, Silas’ wolf felt more content than he could ever remember. Their two sleep-warm scents intertwined to tell a story of a day full of laughter and flushed cheeks and happiness.
Pack.
Yes. Together, they smelled like pack.
His parents had always smelled that way. Or, well, like family at least. And when Silas nervously walked into a classroom full of strangers on his first day of human school, only to be surprised by another shifter like him hunched in the back of the room, he’d immediately smelled like he belonged, too.
Stomping up to Finn on the playground, Silas asked, “Who’s pack do you belong to? Why are you the only shifter in our class?”
Finn had blinked at him, ducking his head. “Um, pack? It’s just me and my mom. She’s normal. Not like me. Or you. I can smell you, but I’m not supposed to. It’s not normal. I’m not supposed to, you know, change.”
He’d whispered the last word like it was a dirty secret.
“Change?” Silas had asked, not understanding. “You mean when you shift into your wolf?”
Finn had nodded, shooting glances around like someone could overhear. “It’s not normal,” he’d repeated.
Then it was Silas’ turn to blink. “But it’s the way we are. It’s a part of us, how could that not be normal?”
Finn hadn’t responded; he’d just given Silas those big, brown puppy eyes—the ones he’d never really grown out of, and right then, Silas had declared that they were friends.
“You can be my friend,” he’d said, careful not to use any of his alpha instincts. His parents had said he wasn’t supposed to show them to anyone, not for a long time.
“You can come to my house,” he’d continued. “I’ll show you how to find it with your nose. It’s hidden, but not if you know where to look. And we’ll run together, and I can show you how to hunt, and you can be pack, too.”
He’d nodded as if deciding such a thing were that simple.
In the end, it had been. They’d quickly become inseparable, with Finn spending as much time as he could with Silas and his family at the house that was hidden unless you knew where to look.
Finn became his brother, his best friend.
His pack.
When they met Sheppard and Renner in the military, they’d felt like pack, too.
Silas’ parents encouraged him to join, saying it would be good for him to learn to take orders and direction from others, especially in a specialized shifter unit. He’d agreed, but only with the assurance that Finn would go with him.
In private, even out of earshot of his best friend, they’d told him it would help keep the alpha instincts subdued.
Silas had learned all of what they’d hoped; he’d rarely struggled to keep himself in check after that. He’d also learned what it felt like to have a broken heart, to lose a friend. They’d come back broken after Renner died—Sheppard most of all—and had rebuilt together, just the three of them.
Silas hoped whatever was happening between him and the DA, Sheppard wouldn’t be hurt again.
Even still, Silas was grateful his parents had encouraged him to leave home and try new experiences. It made realizing Silver Rapids was where he belonged all the sweeter.
They’d been terrified for him when he and Finn moved into the tiny town, in a house anyone walking down the street could easily spot. Silas had convinced them it would be alright; the Salt Creek den had still been hours north at that point, having only established the new outpost within the last couple of years, and not even Finn and Sheppard knew he was an alpha.
Those instincts had gone dormant.
Silas hadn’t missed them, and he hadn’t blamed his parents for their absence. They loved him very, very much. It’d never been about hiding a part of who he was; even from a very young age, Silas understood it was meant to keep him safe.
He remembered flashes of the night they’d fled, terrified of what his uncle’s ultimatum would mean for them all.
Sitting out of sight at the top of the staircase, confused and scared and quiet as a mouse, Silas had listened as they’d argued over what they should do.
He remembered the fear in his father’s voice when he’d begged his mother to understand that their plan wasn’t foolproof, that he may not be able to protect them if they were caught, that he was scared. His mother had explained through broken sobs that she wouldn’t survive Cain taking Silas away, her words muffled by his father’s shirt.
Silas remembered their horrified faces when he’d been unable to stifle his own tears, and they’d rounded the corner at the base of the stairs to find him crying alone.
He remembered his father, whom he inherited his size and build from, had taken the stairs three at a time, scooped him up into his lap, and chuffed into his hair. “It’s alright, baby. Shh, it will be alright. We’ll protect you,” he’d said, the deep rumble of his voice as comforting as ever.
His mother’s scent had surrounded him when she’d wrapped her arms around them both, making Silas feel whole and loved and safe.
“I’m scared,” he’d whispered into the space between them. “I don’t want to go live with Alpha Cain.”
“You are ours, and we will never let him take you from us,” his mother had said, a snarl in her voice. “But to make sure of that, we need to go live somewhere else.”
“You mean, leave the den?” he’d asked.
“Yes, baby. We’ll leave the den and take you somewhere safe. How does that sound?” his father had asked.
“But you’re coming with me, right?”
“Of course,” they replied together.
His father bent his head low, curling even more around Silas. “We’ll have to keep some things a secret for a while, Si. I know it might get uncomfortable, but to keep you safe, we’ll have to hide that you’re an alpha from strangers. Just until we know it’s safe,” his father had said.
“Oh. Would… would someone want to be my friend, then? If I’m not going to be alpha? Like in the library today—he’s my friend,” he’d said.
His mother had pressed a kiss into his hair, smelling of fresh tears. “Yeah, baby, I think you'll find a friend. Let's go pack up now. You can pick out your favorite shirts and socks with me.”
His father had tucked him into the backseat of the car under the cover of dark and pushed from behind while his mother steered them out of the compound. When they’d finally started up the engine and driven away, Silas was lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of the road, and dreamt of a friend.
Their last morning visiting his parents was cold and sunny.
Silas squinted against the bright reflection off the snow as he brought his axe down over and over, logs tumbling to the ground with each swing.
Crack
Crack
Crack
He’d been outside splitting wood for half an hour or so when footsteps approached from the house, their steady, heavy crunch so similar to his own. “Is everything alright?” his father asked when he’d made his way over.
Silas halted his next swing and turned, wiping at his brow. “Yes,” he answered honestly. The image of Sammy, curled up in his arms and still deeply asleep when Silas woke earlier this morning, flashed through his mind. “Yes, everything’s good. Really good.”
“I’m glad,” his dad replied, eyes twinkling. He picked up the second axe leaning against the splitting log and joined Silas in adding to their pile of kindling. “But I know you. When the wood pile is growing, something’s on your mind.”
Silas had noticed his parents’ firewood supply was low, so when he’d been unable to fall back asleep this morning, thoughts spinning, he’d opted to come and replenish it before they returned home.
After years of splitting and hauling firewood together, they fell into an easy rhythm, the sounds of their chopping and stacking a familiar soundtrack in Silas’ mind.
“Could you read Uncle Cain’s thoughts back when we were still in the pack?” Silas asked after a few swings, his breath billowing out in the cold morning air.
His dad stopped and turned to him. “Read his thoughts? Like, hear the things going through his head?”
Silas nodded, resting the heavy end of the axe on the ground.
“No. Never.”
“Have you ever heard of telepathy developing in a pack?”
His father’s eyebrows knit together. “Maybe in an old bedtime story. When your uncle and I were boys, your great-grandmother used to tell us tales of how shifters came to be—how the ancient packs had all sorts of magic at their fingertips and that they could communicate with each other without speaking. But those were just stories. Why do you ask?”
Silas shook his head, looking at his feet. “It’s not just a story,” he said quietly. “Ever since I told Finn and Sheppard I was an alpha last spring, it feels like I woke something up. Or shifted something, somehow. I can’t explain it, but we all feel it. We can hear each other’s thoughts now. Not all the time, and not super clearly. We can’t speak to one another directly; more like, we feel the big emotions the others are feeling.”
Silas’ dad blinked in surprise. “I’ve never heard of that happening, but I suppose if it had, that’s something a pack would keep secret. Have you looked into it further?”
Silas nodded. “Sheppard’s contacted a shifter doctor from way up north to help figure out why Riley isn’t healing,” he answered. “If we trust him, I may ask if he knows anything about it.”
His dad nodded. “Your mother has family you could call, too. It wouldn’t hurt to see what they know.”
Silas sighed. “Yeah, I’ll do that. It’s been a lot. I haven’t wanted to deal with any of it, but now…” He peered up at his bedroom window, wondering if Sammy was still asleep or if he’d already readied himself for the day. “Now I feel like I can.”
He picked his axe back up, and they resumed their firewood splitting.
“You don’t need to help with this, you know,” his dad said after a while, gesturing with an arm full of logs.
Silas smiled. “I know, but I like to. It’s a lot of work to live out here.”
“Yes, it is,” his father said, chuckling. “It’s something your mother and I have been discussing more and more, but that’s a topic for another day. Now, why haven’t you told Sammy he’s your mate?”
The question startled Silas, and he fumbled the firewood he’d already stacked, knocking part of the pile over.
How had his dad known Sammy was his mate? He was fairly certain the bond wasn’t detectable yet, and sure, he’d chatted his parents’ ears off about him in passing phone conversations and visits, but he’d never come right out and said it.
He wanted Sammy to be the first person he told when the time was right.
“What?” Silas asked, even though he’d heard him perfectly well.
His father simply raised an eyebrow in response—the meddling snoop.
Silas narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you spoke to him about when we first arrived?” Surely not; there were boundaries even a nosey nelly like him wouldn’t cross.
“Of course not,” his dad said. “I could tell your mother’s toast had upset him, and when I went to check on him, I overheard him talking to himself about looking frightful enough to pull off an escape. We spoke, and it was clear that the root of his angst was only partially due to your mother’s words, and that you mean a great deal to him. It was also clear that he has no idea how much he means to you.”
Silas peered out through the trees, knowing it would be useless to deny. “He’s only just let me back into his life,” he said quietly. “I won’t rush it. I won’t rush him. Just because I know he’s… the one for me, I won’t force that on him.”
His dad clapped him on the shoulder. “You want him to choose you, too.”
Silas nodded once.
“Oh, to be young and an idiot in love,” his father said with a sigh.
“Hey, I’m not an idiot,” Silas grumbled, toeing at the ground.
“You both are.”
Silas studied his father’s face. “How did you know? That he’s my… you know .”
His dad rolled his eyes. “You are my son. He’s also the first man you’ve ever brought home, Silas. Of course, he’s your mate.”
“We don’t bring just anybody here. It’s not safe.”
“Exactly,” his father said with a sly smile. “And yet, you didn’t think twice about inviting Sammy, did you?”
No. He hadn’t.
“Now, come inside and get cleaned up. Finn is already helping your mother with the roast. And I won’t meddle…”
It was Silas’ turn to roll his eyes.
“… but I wouldn’t recommend waiting too long to tell him the truth. I’m afraid you’ll regret it if you do.”