Chapter 1
JULIET
FOUR MONTHS LATER
There’s a werewolf across the street. And he’s staring at me.
What’s even worse is, I know this werewolf.
My grocery bags slip from my fingers, adrenaline stealing all the strength from every corner of my body and dumping it into my legs.
Run.
Abandoning my shopping, I sprint down a side alley.
“Wait!” I hear called out behind me.
I ignore the command and keep running.
As I turn down random streets, picking my directions in the moment, I try to think. Try to plan.
But panic clouds my mind, and instead of coming up with what I should do, I can’t help thinking about what I should’ve done.
I should’ve left the country.
I should’ve worn sneakers every day instead of these flimsy flats.
I should’ve dyed my red hair black.
I should’ve had another backup plan, is the last berating thought before I find myself at a dead end, sandwiched between two buildings and a privacy fence.
Too late for plans now.
When I whirl around, the wolf is there.
Of course he is. Even if I had years to train, I could never outrun a werewolf.
The only thing that keeps me from screaming in frustrated rage is that I’m not face-to-face with Cory.
No, just one of his pack members.
The guy watches me, and even as I brace to fight him off, a corner of my mind picks up the strange fact that my cloth grocery bags are slung over his shoulders.
Once I meet his eyes, he offers a smile.
I want to vomit.
Yeah, I bet he’s happy. Cory has probably been on a rampage to find me since he discovered the house abandoned. No doubt he’d have the whole pack hunting me if he were the leader.
The wolf facing me makes a gesture. Like a salute.
“Hello,” he says, his voice gentle. Almost curious.
I swallow, trying my hardest to come up with a way out of this.
Will talking to him help me in any way? Could I convince him to forget he ever saw me?
Unlikely, but possible. More so than fighting him off.
With my throat so tight that I think I might choke, I eke out a quick, “Hi.”
His eyes focus on my lips. “Did you work at the Bear Valley Library?”
As he speaks, there’s a slight roundness to his words, and he moves his hands in specific gestures. A piece of half-forgotten knowledge rises from my memory to attach to the movements.
One of the werewolves in Cory’s pack was deaf.
Could this be that wolf? Was he just using sign language?
I haven’t spoken that way in a while, but I still recognize it.
Would communicating in his preferred method help me get out of this?
Testing my theory, I ball my fingers into a fist and give a jerky twitch, signing a hesitant, “Yes.”
His eyes widen, a smile spreading across his boyish face.
“You know ASL?” This time, he’s more intentional with his hand signs, but still speaks out loud.
“Yes,” I both say and sign, hoping this connection might get him on my side long enough for me to escape.
I’m not fluent, but I recall enough to get by. My undergrad required two semesters of language courses, and I opted for American Sign Language.
The werewolf takes my assent as a go-ahead to have a full-blown silent conversation. His hands move too fast for me to comprehend, especially when panic still twists my concentration toward fleeing.
But he’s not making a grab for me. In fact, when I take a moment to actually look at him, I realize he’s doing his best to tone down his intimidation factor.
Keeping his distance. Tilting his head, as if to make his neck vulnerable.
Even standing slightly to the side, possibly allowing me an escape route.
Also, he’s trying to talk to me rather than capture me.
With shaky hands from the adrenaline still coursing through me, I sign to him, “Again. Slow.”
He grins with chagrin. “Sorry. I got excited.”
When he speaks the words, along with his signing, my memory makes the connections, and I try to store them away so I can better communicate with him.
“I’m not part of the Bear Valley pack anymore.”
I suck in a deep, shocked breath, barely daring to hope.
If he’s not in the Bear Valley pack, he might not know I ran. Or he might not even care.
“You’re in the pack here? In Pine Falls?” I try to remember how to sign all the words as I ask the question aloud but end up fingerspelling a few I can’t recollect. Maybe when I’m not so stressed, I’ll recall more.
He nods. Then, after a pause, he asks, “You left Cory?”
Hoping this won’t end whatever this temporary truce is, I nod. Firmly.
I left him, and I’m not going back.
The werewolf studies me for a moment, and then his eyes burn with fierce intensity. “Good.”
“Good?” I sign, my brows dipping in question.
Of course, I think it’s good. But I didn’t expect this reaction from a former pack mate.
The wolf nods. “Cory was an asshole.”
He signs the word that was definitely not covered in my college elective course, pairing the curse with a disgusted expression.
And I find myself smiling in response.
Pointing to his hands, I gesture for him to repeat himself. Wanting to add it to my vocabulary.
The werewolf gives another wide grin and complies. “Asshole.”
A laugh born of relief and morbid humor chokes me, and the wolf shares chuckles with me.
My breathing grows steadier, and some of my panic mutes at the possibility that this guy might not be a second away from texting my ex my location. Time to figure out if I truly am fucked or not.
“You left Bear Valley? Why?” Speaking the words aloud helps me remember the shapes I need to make with my hands.
“The pack wasn’t a good fit.” His face dims. “They were uncomfortable around me.”
“Because they didn’t know ASL?”
That seems ridiculous to me, seeing as how this guy goes through the trouble of speaking along with signing. He’s the one who would have to attempt to lip-read what everyone else is saying.
He shrugs. “That. And I’m into guys. Bear Valley wasn’t holding Pride parades in June, you know?”
Cory was second-in-command in the Bear Valley pack, and he was constantly inviting members over to our house.
Made the place noisy and crowded, and I always wanted to hide up in our bedroom until everyone left.
But that was against one of Cory’s many rules.
So, I interacted a lot with the wolves he had over. At least, I saw a lot of them.
Thinking back, I don’t believe this wolf ever crossed our threshold. I only know his face from other pack gatherings that humans were invited to.
One more reason to hate my ex. Apparently, he was ableist and homophobic.
Seems like the whole pack might have been.
“Here, Pine Falls, is better?” I ask with my voice and with my hands.
He nods emphatically, and a tension that’s been hanging in my chest for months eases.
I didn’t randomly choose to move to Pine Falls, Colorado. I selected this small mountain town on purpose. Most people would assume moving to a place with a well-established wolf pack would be my last choice when fleeing a supernatural ex.
But that’s what I’m counting on. Fingers crossed Cory thinks I want to get as far away from wolves as possible.
After the way the Bear Valley pack treated me, I do. If I could go my entire life without seeing another wolf, I’d be ecstatic. However, while living with one, I picked up some valuable information.
First off, werewolves have defined territories whose boundaries they can’t cross without the local pack leader knowing. To do so without permission is asking to have your throat removed from your neck.
The other piece of info I learned was that Cory hated the Pine Falls pack. He called them soft. Said they might as well be a bunch of humans. He and the other Bear Valley wolves want nothing to do with them.
So, Pine Falls, Colorado, sounded like the perfect escape.
After choosing so wrong with my ex, I’ve had trouble trusting my instincts. But something—a small voice in my heart—tells me I can trust this wolf who left the same pack I ran from. And I brace myself, taking a chance.
“I’m hiding. I’m not Abby.” Only signing the words gives me the courage I need to admit the truth. Still, my simple grasp of his language has me struggling how to explain. Mostly, I try to convey my meaning with my expressions.
Understanding lights in his warm brown eyes.
He nods again, once with feeling, and responds with his hands, each sign slow enough for me to understand and believe. “Past … you and me … none … forget.”
When he swipes his palm across his forehead with the last sign, I want to sob in relief.
I’m still safe here.
The wolf steps in closer, and I don’t get the urge to shrink from him.
“Hello. My name is Thad Flannery.” He fingerspells each letter in his name, though I’m guessing there’s a shortened version.
What I remember from my ASL classes is that someone else in the Deaf community usually comes up with whatever gestures make your sign name. You don’t create your sign name yourself, especially not if you’re hearing. To receive a sign name is an honor.
Still, even with the full version, Thad Flannery doesn’t spark any memory for me. Cory never even introduced me to the wolf.
“Hello. My name is …” I take my time, used to fingerspelling my birth name, not the new one. “J-U-L-I-E-T A-D-A-I-R.”
Thad nods deeply, and we give each other silly grins.
I think I just made my first true friend in Pine Falls.
Thad gestures back the way I fled, and I fall in step beside him while keeping my body angled slightly in his direction so he can see my hands.
As we walk back to Main Street, the two of us make small talk as best we can.
The man is kind enough to use his voice because my understanding is still slow, but words reform in my memory with every sentence he signs.
Thad, unlike the other werewolves I’ve met, is exceedingly patient.
I tell him how I work at the Pine Falls Public Library, and he promises to visit me.
He explains he joined the pack a year ago, which means he left Bear Valley long before I did.
“Do you know Roderick?”
His question throws me off, and I glance across the street to where Thad is pointing.
My feet slow as I take in the sight.
Dismounting from a heavy black motorcycle is a mountain of a man. He has the appearance of a bar bouncer, with intimidating muscles, a shaved head, and an aura of strength.
That’s right. An aura. He practically glows with power.
Okay, he’s not a night-light, so there’s no actual glow. But after spending so much time around mythical creatures, I’ve started to recognize the subtle differences between them and plain old humans.
Which is why I suspect this guy, Roderick, is a pack member.
Another werewolf? Great. Couldn’t I just deal with one supernatural being a day?
My luck has to have run out by this point.
I can’t be fortunate enough to run across two decent wolves.
I know that Cory said the Pine Falls pack was soft, but my guess is that merely meant they weren’t as bloodthirsty as my ex was.
Like they only get into bar fights every other week instead of every night.
Realizing that I haven’t responded to Thad, I shake my head. He offers an encouraging smile and waves for me to follow him across the street.
Damn it. Guess I didn’t make clear that part of me hiding means I’d rather not associate with more werewolves.
Briefly, I consider fleeing again, but Thad is carrying my groceries, and I keep my wits enough to realize that running away from a stranger would set off all kinds of alarm bells. I’m trying to pass as a completely normal, nothing-special-about-me, small-mountain-town resident.
Which, honestly, is the truth. I’m a pretty boring person, all things considered. I like books, paper crafts, the occasional outdoor activity, and keeping to myself.
The only exciting thing about me is that I’m hiding from an abusive werewolf ex-boyfriend.
But that’s not Juliet Adair, I silently remind myself. Juliet Adair has no evil exes.
Maybe Juliet Adair has no exes at all. Maybe she never figured dating out, so she hasn’t bothered with it. Maybe she’s only seen a penis on ethical porn websites and has only ever given herself orgasms.
Also, let’s stop thinking about orgasms as I look at the intimidatingly large—fine, I guess he’s handsome—almost definitely a wolf who Thad wants me to meet.
Doing my best to fully slip into my new identity, I follow after Thad, easily crossing the road that has a grand total of zero traffic. Unfortunately, my new friend almost immediately starts signing to his buddy, which means I can’t subtly ask Thad not to mention that I know werewolves exist.
Although, from what I can pick up from his hand movements, there’s no mention of wolves or pack. What I get is:
“Juliet … librarian … new … meet … ASL … me.” Thad motions me forward.
“Hello,” I say and gesture at the same time.
As I greet him, I look up. And up. And up.
Until I finally find myself staring into a set of hard eyes.
Solid.
Unforgiving.
This guy Roderick has a gaze of a sheer rock face that would terrify even a seasoned climber.
Or challenge them.
If I stare for long enough, study every nuance, could I find the tiniest of cracks? Just enough of a handhold to wedge the tips of my fingers in?
But I have no plans to climb this man. I am the ex-less librarian who handles all of her own needs.
And I definitely don’t need a werewolf.
“You know sign language?” Roderick asks and gestures at the same time. His hands move with a forceful grace, keeping Thad included in the conversation.
Still, I decide it should be illegal for this man to know ASL. Also, for him to speak. The sight of his controlled finger movements, paired with the deep growl of his voice, is some kind of crime.
Probably arson since I think my panties caught fire.
“A little,” I respond, also gesturing and speaking simultaneously. Hopefully, no complicated questions get thrown my way. I’m going to need a lot more practice before I can hold any type of in-depth conversation.
Also, I think I need to flesh my backstory out more with how intensely Roderick is staring at me. My armpits start to sweat, and I mentally repeat my fake Social Security number to myself.
Not that he would have any reason ever to ask for that or that I would have any reason to give it to him.
“You’re new here.”
Despite neither his tone nor his facial expression conveying a question, I still nod. Maybe he’s not a questions kind of guy. That would be perfect. If he’s one of those stoic men who doesn’t care about other people, he’ll just grunt and go on his way, dismissing the inconsequential human.
Perfect. He’s abrupt, but that’s fine. When we cross paths, we’ll just nod in greeting and—
He scowls down at me. “When are you leaving?”