Chapter 11 - Wilf
The cold helps a bit. It’s probably the only thing keeping me on track this afternoon—being outside with my hand on the axe, my breath fogging the air, and the satisfying burn in my muscles as I split the wood for the new supports to hold up the roof for the rest of the season.
In the summer, the pack will come out and build a whole new store; this one has clearly seen better days.
I push the final prop into place and check the others to make sure they’re going to hold before I pick the axe back up and begin splitting some more dry logs to take back inside.
I throw a few more on the pile because I’d rather drag this out than head straight back in.
The cabin is secure; I won’t be making that mistake again.
Though with this new heavy snowfall, I don’t think even Lara would make a run for it right now.
Her fear is making her reckless, but she’s not stupid.
My wolf is still pacing beneath the surface.
He’s been restless ever since she walked away from me after that kiss, even though I’ve tried to ignore it and let her have her space.
It’s not the kind of restlessness that I can talk him down from; he’s been on edge ever since the lottery, and this situation is just getting to him.
He can’t have what isn’t available, and that girl isn't available.
But he’s not listening because now he knows how good she tastes. Perhaps, after feeling so out of sorts after the lottery, he’s just wanting to see things that aren’t there. Picking a woman who isn’t human and doesn’t hate shifters would be a start, though.
I swing the axe harder than needed, and it splits the wood before lodging in the block. I curse under my breath as I work it back out and set it down, tossing the split logs onto the pile.
I didn’t go back to see Elder Amelia like I said I would.
I just kept telling myself it didn’t matter; there was clearly no match for me.
It might never have happened before, but it’s just my luck that even the sacred pack magic didn’t think I was worthy of a mate.
Or perhaps the magic doesn’t really see me as being part of the pack, not properly.
Which feels ironic, given that Caleb and Dina found their match only recently, after joining from Cheslem.
Not that I begrudge them a happy future, but the weight of my own not being within my own pack sits heavily. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
So, whatever my wolf wants from Lara is probably just trying to fill some kind of hole that damn lottery, but inside me. And that’s stupid, and certainly nothing I want to examine too closely.
I load up the basket and finish tarping the woodpile, then gather the tools and head back toward the cabin, kicking the snow off my boots and disabling the security before going inside.
The front room is warm and quiet. I reset the alarms and glance around.
She’s not here, but I can hear her in the bedroom she’s using, so I set down the tools by the door and peel off my coat and boots, checking my phone.
Three missed calls. Two from Nick and one from Connor. There’s a text from Connor too, in his usual no-nonsense style: Wilf. Ring me or Nick. Answer your damn phone. C
I hesitate over replying now, but then spot a voicemail from Nick, so I press play and lean against the counter.
“Wilf, it’s Luna,” she says, “Anya’s here and we’ve got an update on the talismans. Call back when you can.”
I take a breath and call Nick’s number; he picks up on the second ring.
“You’re alive,” he drawls, “I’ve had Connor blowing up my phone over you, but I suspect you’re calling for Luna’s update on the talismans, am I right?”
I smile despite myself and run a hand over my stubble. “I’ll call Connor,” I tell him, “but, yes, Luna left a voicemail.”
He chuckles, knowing exactly how Connor gets when he can’t get hold of folk. “I’ll get her on the line,” he says, and I hear him move through the house before the line goes onto speakerphone.
“Wilf,” I hear Nick tell Luna, and then there’s the sound of her doing something in the background before she comes onto the line.
“Hey, Wilf,” she says, and I can practically see her smiling into the phone. “Are you ok?”
“I’m all good, thanks,” I tell her, “you said Anya had looked at those talismans?”
“She did; we finished up about an hour ago. She says they are a strong protective working. She’s seen the style before, but not the exact composition; definitely not amateur work and very dark. This isn’t good magic. I think we all got that read when handling them.”
That’s an understatement, I think, just touching them made my wolf feel off. But then, anything from Chelselm tends to have that effect. “Protecting against what?” I ask.
I hear her sigh over the line, a silent shrug.
“She can’t say. These kinds of things don’t tell us what, only they and the witch that designed them will know that.
She did say that it’s a magical barrier rather than a physical one, so it's not designed to stop an attack by a shifter or knife, but rather an influence or other magic. Like a shield. Not much help, I know.”
“Right,” I say, slowly.
“Whatever the Cheslem’s witch made these for,” Nick says in the background, “she made them because she thought the wearers would come up against something they’d need to be shielded against. We need to make sure that’s not any of our wards, so Connor is out checking them with the patrols.”
"Anya wants us to keep her updated,” Luna says, “something about the style of them bothered her. She’s heading back to the coven now, but said she’d keep looking into it for us.”
“That's good, appreciate the update,” I say quietly, thinking it all through and knowing that I should mention Lara’s strange ability, but something stops me. Perhaps the thought that she wouldn’t want me to tell them.
“Wilf,” Nick says.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Just say the word, and I’ll send a truck up to bring you and that girl in once the snow clears a bit, ok?” He says, and I hear the question loud and clear. “And get in touch with Connor before he bothers me again.”
I groan, ignoring the first part of his statement, “I’ll text him now.” I tell him and thank Luna again for the update before I hang up.
A protective talisman, then—that points to it being connected to the witch Lara said they were going to bring in to get around her powers.
It makes sense as they were chasing her down, but part of me hoped it wasn’t connected.
If they’ve gone to the trouble to get a witch to prepare a defensive shield, they’re clearly serious about getting her back and somehow using her.
Though if her power isn’t working well against me, they might be disappointed. Either way doesn’t end well for Lara.
I fire off a text to Connor, mainly about the snow and reiterating some of Luna’s update.
Hoping that will appease him because if he calls and starts asking questions, I’d find it difficult to lie to a man who has been nothing but loyal to me my whole life.
I know I need to decide what to do with Lara.
I know she’d rather I just let her go, but the reality is that the rogues aren’t going to just forget about her if they’ve gone to this much trouble. She won’t be safe without protection.
The exact kind of protection she doesn’t want.
I’m just putting the coffee pot on when I hear the bedroom door open and the sound of footsteps in the hall.
I turn to see Lara walk in, wearing rolled-up sweats and a T-shirt tied at the side.
She’s obviously had a shower, as her hair is still damp.
She looks beautiful just as she is, and my damn wolf notices.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing a second cup.
“Hi,” she replies, and I wonder if she heard the call. I don’t want her to think I’m hiding anything from her, considering how well that went last time.
I make the coffee and hand her a cup, setting my own down on the kitchen island. “I spoke to Luna. Anya, the witch who helps my pack sometimes, has checked over the talismans, and they’re like a protective shield. They protect against influence rather than the physical.”
“So, against me, you think?” She asks quietly.
I sigh, “I was hoping it might point in another direction, but that does seem the most likely. You said they were bringing in a witch, after all. Perhaps you only just missed her, and she went ahead with the talismans, and then they started tracking you.”
“I was surprised I didn’t hear them on my trail sooner; they must have waited for the talismans to be ready. So that tracks.” She mutters, watching the fire.
“It does,” I reply.
“Have you told them about me? About my voice?” She asks.
“No,” I tell her, and she watches my face for a trace of a lie, but she won’t find it.
“Don’t you trust them?” She asks, and the question takes me by surprise.
“Of course I do, but this just feels like something that needs working through first,” I tell her. “I didn’t think you’d want me to tell them.”
“I thought shifters were only loyal to their alpha and pack, so I figured you’d tell them everything,” she replies.
I smirk and take a sip of my coffee. “Yeah, well, that’s kind of true, but they’re used to me doing things my own way.”
“A lone wolf, huh?” She says, eyeing me carefully.
“I guess so,” I say quietly, “I live on the ridge and don’t bother much with town. My father stole from half of them growing up and then cut and ran, leaving me behind. They’ve all been good to me, but I think growing up like that kept me on the edge of the pack. Nothing much has changed…”
I trail off, unsure why I just spilled all that, and she stares at me for a moment, seemingly processing it before speaking.
“That’s a lot to carry around with you,” she says, eventually.
“I’m not carrying anything,” I tell her, “it’s just how it is and why they’re used to me doing things on my own.”
She looks back at the fire, and I’m not sure if she’s thinking about her own situation with the rogues or the flash of insight, I just dumped on her about my own life. Feeling uncomfortable, I turn to the cabinets and start pulling the pans out for dinner.
“You’re a hypocrite, you know.” She says after a moment.
I pause, turning to look at her. “How so?” I ask.
“You’ve been telling me I’m not going to make it on my own,” she replies. “You tell me to stay in this cabin and trust you, but it doesn’t sound like you trust anyone. You’ve told me your pack are good people, and I can trust them, but why should I trust them if you don’t?”
“That isn’t the same thing…” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Why not?” She asks, her voice rising.
She stands up and starts pacing, and I realize this is probably weeks of stress and frustration coming out because she looks a combination of scared and pissed off all at once.
“It’s not the same because you’re human, you’re more vulnerable,” I say, and realize that was a mistake as she whirls around on me.
“Are you kidding me?” She snaps, “I didn’t ask you to bring me here.”
“You would have died if I didn’t,” I say quietly, and I know she knows it’s true because it takes the wind out of her sails a bit. “I won’t apologize for doing the right thing. So, sit down.”
She doesn’t sit down. She hesitates for a moment, a war of emotions crossing her face before she walks toward me, and I realize what she’s going to do about half a second before she does it.
Her hand goes to the front of my shirt, and she reaches on her tiptoes to kiss me, the length of her body pressed against mine. The moment her lips touch mine, my wolf surges, more than happy to take what he’s been wanting.
I feel her tremble against me, and I anchor my hand on her waist to steady her.
I find her t-shirt has ridden up, and I groan as my hand sweeps along bare, soft skin, hungry for more.
I pull her in, and she lets me. The soft fit of her against the front of my body makes me realize just how much I wanted this, how right it feels.
I drag my mouth off hers just a fraction. “Lara,” I say to her low, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish.”
She doesn’t reply, not with words; she just tangles her fingers in my shirt and pulls me down, kissing me again. I don’t hold back this time. I kiss her the way I’ve been wanting to since the last time my hands were on her body, and she makes a small sound that only drags me in further.
I move us, spinning her so it’s her back against the wall by the kitchen door.
She arches into me, and I drop my mouth to her throat where her pulse is racing beneath the skin.
She’s the one who reaches for the buttons on my shirt, the buttons coming away as her fingers slide against my skin.
I know I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer, and it will take more than splitting logs in the snow to cool me off now.
“Lara,” I tell her, my voice gone so rough I barely recognize it. “If you don’t want this, you need to tell me now, I…”
“I want this,” she cuts me off.
“You’re sure?” I ask again, my fingers hesitating at the hem of her t-shirt.
She nods, and that’s all I need; I hoist her up into my arms and head for the bedroom.