Chapter Four
Vaughn
Once Poe drifted into his office for the day and Holt left to work in the garden, I cleaned up the kitchen and decided on a run.
My wolf was antsy. A rarity since I’d made the decision to stay at home most of the time and avoid town. Not that our town was anything but charming and lovely.
The problem was me. Or perhaps people in general. I’d been betrayed by friends and relations so many times that I now stayed near my pack and our home. With our gardens and chickens and things to run around the house, I had plenty to do and being at home made me happy.
“Okay, okay,” I spoke out loud to my wolf. His restlessness caused a panic attack to begin to bubble, so there was no choice but to let him run.
At the edge of the forest that surrounded our land, I stripped myself of clothes and let him loose.
Being a wolf shifter was the best. Yes, there were other shifters, but the wolf was the fastest, at least around here.
He loved to run in the forest. Visit the waterfall and clear waters of a stream.
Maybe fish. Maybe hunt. Most definitely stir up trouble.
We ran our regular paths but this time, once we neared the woods that butted up to the north side of the main part of Pleasant, he stopped, his paws skidding in the dirt.
He raised his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent he picked up managed to bolt straight though our veins and give rise to every instinct shifter and human.
An omega.
An omega who was very close.
Her honey and vanilla scent ignited something in me. This was no ordinary omega.
My wolf crouched down and crawled closer to town, into the alley between the diner and the general store.
He waited for her. Waited for some sign that she was near.
But after hours, he picked up nothing new. No omega had passed on the street. The scent was almost stale now. It barely hung on the breeze blowing between the new buildings.
Once, so powerful it almost knocked me on my ass, now, I could scarcely detect it.
It took all my will and control to force my wolf to go back home.
We’d missed her.
My wolf had never been so devastated.
Once we arrived, it was past time to start dinner. Poe emerged from his office and stretched right and left. Being an author was taxing on his body and his mind. His books did well and made it possible for me to be…me. That and Holt’s income.
While I took out the chicken thighs I’d thankfully already marinated, Poe drifted to the stereo, one of his prized possessions, and put on a record. Our routine.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked. “Need any help?”
“Want to make cilantro-lime rice?” I ticked my chin toward the ingredients already sitting on the counter.
“Yeah. I can do that.”
Holt made his way inside after a while. Soon after, I heard the shower before he came out dressed in jeans and a shirt he wore to funerals and town council meetings.
I grilled the veggies and chicken and let them rest while I took a shower of my own.
Another of my quirks was that I hated cooking odors clinging to me while I ate, even if it was good food, which mine was.
The smells clinging to my hair and clothes made me feel icky. Couldn’t explain why, but I’d learned to accept myself with all my idiosyncrasies intact.
“How many chapters did you get done today?” Holt asked as we took our seats and filled our plates.
Poe reached for the back of his neck as though it carried the answer. “Six. Any more than that, and my brains feel like mush. I stopped at a critical moment, but it’s a good place to pick up tomorrow morning.”
“Better than stopping when you don’t know what to write next,” I said.
We’d had this conversation before.
The normalcy was good for us. The routine. But at times, it was a flashing neon-sign reminder of what we were missing out on. A life with an omega. Once we found her, our life would revolve around her, as it should.
As dinner progressed into dessert, Holt became more agitated.
Not on the surface. Not the human part where we could see it, but my wolf knew he was on edge.
Why? He couldn’t explain. Holt didn’t bounce his knee or become short with his answers.
His wolf reached out to mine through the brotherly pack bond we shared.
Something was up.
And Holt and his wolf almost at his breaking point.
“I’m gonna skip dessert tonight. I’ve got some things to look into. In town. In…in the town.”
Poe and I shared a look. The going-into-town part was far from abnormal, but Holt was rock steady, even in the worst situations. Not squirrely or weird, like he was right now.
“Be safe.” Poe plopped blueberry-peach cobbler onto his plate then got up. There was no cobbler without ice cream in his book.
Who could blame him?
“Always am.”
And with that, he was out the door. No uniform. No walkie-talkie. It was still plugged in by the door where he kept his sheriffy things.
Holt was up to something.
“That was weird, right?” Poe said, sitting down with a pint of caramel ice cream.
“Yep. But sometimes he gets weird, right? I mean, if there’s a case or a mystery.”
Poe laughed, hard. “You’re confusing Holt with someone who is the sheriff of a murdery town. Nothing ever happens in Pleasant. Maybe a neighborly feud.”
“Huh.”
Holt would tell us when he needed to.
“Pass me the ice cream,” I said.