Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
A shley
“Is this right?” I ask Ms. Elsie, as I scoop in another half a cup of flour into the mix.
When she doesn’t immediately answer, I glance over at her. Ms. Elsie is staring between the mix and my hand with a lifted eyebrow.
We’re standing at the counter of Alpha Chael and Reese’s kitchen.
“That was too much, hunh?”
She lets out a little chuckle before patting me on the shoulder.
“I’ll never be a good cook.” I pout while placing the measuring cups on the counter and sliding the large metal mixing bowl over to her.
Ms. Elsie was teaching me how to make her monkey bread. So far, though, I can’t even get the dough right. She’d given me the task of adding a little more flour to get the appropriate amount of rise out of the bread, but the expression she’s giving me tells me it’s not going well.
“I burnt the batch of my special cornbread-cake I took over to Christophe,” I confess.
She chuckles as she adds, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“He nearly choked to death. I had to get him water just to swallow the one and only bite he took.” My mouth frowns as I recall the way, even as he coughed and tried to swallow the obviously dry cornbread-cake, he told me it was pretty good.
I knew he was lying, but I couldn’t ignore the way my entire body lit up from the compliment.
“It’s starting to smell good in this place,” Alpha Queen Reese says as she emerges from down the hall.
Ms. Elsie and I spin to face her.
“How was your nap?” Ms. Elsie asks.
Reese’s lips spread into a smile before she looks down at the bundle on her chest. “It was perfect,” she says, taking the little balled-up fist of her infant son into her hand.
Baby Echo’s fingers open and then curl around her pointer finger. My heart stutters at the sight.
“This little guy’s still sleeping,” Reese says, with softness in her voice. Her lips dip downward for a beat. “I should wake him up soon, though. Otherwise, he’ll be up all night.”
“I don’t mind staying up all night with him while you and Alpha get your rest,” Ms. Elsie says, waving off her concerns before she goes back to preparing the dough.
“You are a treasure, Ms. Elsie.” Reese strokes her son’s head, the only part of him that can be seen over the baby wrap that snuggly holds him against Reese’s chest. “How’s dinner going?”
I spin back to the stove.
“Great, no thanks to me.” I throw up my hands in disgust at myself.
Reese chuckles. “Still having trouble with those recipes, huh?”
In the almost two weeks I’ve been here among the Nightwolf pack, I’ve grown somewhat close with Reese. Aside from my sister, who’s away doing anthropology research on the histories of wolf shifters for the day, and Ms. Elsie, Reese is someone I talk to almost every day.
Apparently, she gave birth to Alpha Chael’s, Echo, son not long before my reappearance.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “It’s probably best that I stay far away from the kitchen.”
My shoulders slump at the thought. I don’t particularly love cooking anyway, but I wanted to find some way to be useful to the pack.
Reese moves closer to me and presses a hand to my shoulder. “Whatever is going on in that head of yours, leave it right there,” she says, looking me in the eye.
A smirk crests on my lips. “How did you know I was thinking anything?”
“You’re not really good at hiding what you’re thinking from your expression.”
My eyebrows rise. “Noted. I’ll have to work on that.”
We both laugh.
“Dinner should be soon, but you’re probably hungry now, huh?” I ask Reese. I don’t wait for her to respond before I help her to the usual chair she sits in at meal times.
“Ms. Elsie and I …” I pause. “Well, Ms. Elsie made you a late afternoon snack to hold you over,” I tell Reese while pulling out the turkey and cheese sandwich with a pickle on the side.
“Yumm!” Reese hums while rubbing her hands in front of her. “You guys are the best.”
“I didn’t do anything …” I turn toward the door as it opens. A smile splits my lips as my sister enters.
Her eyes light up when they land on me.
“Hey, you,” she says, coming over to give me a hug.
“How was work?” I ask after she greets Reese and Ms. Elsie.
“It was great. Reese, look,” she says, pulling out what appears to be an old photo from the large manila envelope in her hand. “I found an old photo of the guys.”
“Oh my.” Reese puts down the half sandwich in her hand and takes the photo from Emery. “They look so young. Where did you get this?”
“Ms. Sheila said her parents had some old photos that they brought over from one of the smaller pack communes out West. She hadn’t looked at it since they brought it more than a year ago.”
“Wow, is that Christophe, too?”
That question from Reese piques my interest. I move from the counter where I had wandered off to watch Ms. Elsie roll out the dough.
“Can I see?”
My sister’s eyebrows lift. She seems almost hesitant.
“Of course,” Reese says, handing me the photo.
I shake off the look from Emery and take the picture. In the photo there are three men standing side-by-side. Though much younger versions than themselves today, they’re instantly recognizable: Chael, Chance, and Christophe.
Christophe stands in between taller Chael and Chance. Though he’s pretty tall at six-foot-two-inches, between the two of them he looks dwarfed considering their much broader muscles and overall build.
Without thinking, my pointer finger runs along the outline of Christophe’s face. Whereas Chael and Chance’s eyes are a shade of copper, Christophe’s are a dark hazel with lovely flecks of green and are covered by glasses.
His reddish-brown skin tone appears smooth over a face that’s all sharp angles. He looks smaller in this photo than from the brief moments I’ve gotten to see him. I wouldn’t call him scrawny, but his build isn’t as broad as his brothers’.
All three men wear neutral expressions, but Christophe …
“He looks so sad,” I say, staring at the picture. There’s no frown playing on his soft, pink lips or even a deep, unsatisfied line in his forehead or any indication of his emotion.
But it’s in his eyes.
“When was this photo taken?” I ask no one in particular.
My gaze remains glued to the image in my hand. Both my human and my wolf ache at the anguish in Christophe’s eyes.
It’s only when Emery starts to answer my question that I peel my attention away from the picture.
“Well, according to the date written on the back, it was not long after the death of Alpha Chael and Chance’s parents.”
“And Christophe’s,” I add, staring at her.
Emery wrinkles her forehead in confusion.
“They adopted him, didn’t they?” I ask, not certain if I have all of the facts about Christophe’s background correct. He rarely spoke about himself while we were locked away.
That night we talked in his home, he didn’t mention a lot about his family background.
“Yes, that’s right.” Reese is the one to answer my question.
She rises from her seat, still cradling baby Echo, as she comes over to me. “His parents were killed years earlier during one of the Nightwolf’s previous wars. The alpha and alpha queen at the time, Chael and Chance’s biological parents, took Christophe in and raised him as their own.”
My lips pinch as my eyes go back to the photo.
“Why does he look so sad?”
In the photo, Chael and Chance aren’t giving the cameraman wide, cheesy grins, but they do wear satisfied expressions. As if they’re both proud to be standing side-by-side.
Christophe doesn’t share in their pride.
“What happened to him?” I turn to Ms. Elsie, knowing she’s the only one present who was around during that time.
For the first time, she takes the photo from my fingers and looks at it. “Life as the omega wasn’t always an easy one …” she starts, but stops when loud voices from outside interrupt her.
“What’s going on?” Reese asks.
Ms. Elsie and Emery quickly get in between her and the door, protectively. Ms. Elsie is the first to open the door.
“He’s going crazy,” Mike says as he approaches the door.
“Who?” A sinking feeling occurs in the pit of my stomach.
“Christophe,” he replies. “I’m going to get the dart gun.”
For the first time, I realize that he’s completely naked, with disheveled hair, as if he’s just shifted back from his wolf form.
“Gun?” I gasp. “No.”
Without thinking, I take off running.
Even the sound of Emery’s voice behind me doesn’t stop or slow me down.
* * *
I have to get to Christophe before Mike does. He’s going to shoot him. No, the dart gun isn’t like a regular or even a silver bullet gun. It’s a tranquilizer, but I can’t bear the thought of Christophe being shot by anything.
“Ashley, wait!” Emery comes up behind me.
She moves in front of me, blocking my progress even as I attempt to dart around her. Thanks to her wolf abilities, she’s gotten a lot faster.
“Emery, please move,” I plead. “I have to get to him. They could hurt him.”
“You don’t know what’s happening out there. Mike said they were out on a run and Christophe’s wolf just started going wild. He could be dangerous.”
My head starts shaking before she finishes that last sentence. “No.” She doesn’t understand. Christophe isn’t dangerous.
All I can think about is the sadness in his eyes in that photo from the kitchen. That already-present sadness combined with the torture and pain I know he endured while locked away, how could I not be there for him?
“He’s hurting,” I say.
“Ashley, he could be dangerous. We need to let Mike and Chance handle this,” Emery says, reaching for my arm, attempting to pull me away.
I step out of her grasp. “You heard Mike, he wants to shoot him,” I tell her, my voice frantic.
“Beta Chance requested the tranq gun,” Mike says, coming up behind me. “We couldn’t get him to calm down.” Mike looks at me. “Beta Chance is stronger and could subdue him, but he didn’t want to risk injuring him.”
He says the words as if they’re supposed to be consoling.
The fact that he holds a gun in his right hand completely undoes any calming notion his words could’ve had over me.
I part my lips to reply to both my sister and Mike, but a loud howl pierces the air. My knees weaken, yet I manage to keep my balance.
“That’s him,” I whisper. He’s in so much pain.
Memories of that dark, cold, unforgiving cell assail my mind. The sounds of Christophe’s yells as they filled my cell bring tears to my eyes. I know what his pain sounds like, even in his wolf form.
Maaate! my wolf cries out, just as desperate to get to him.
“He’s hurting,” I tell them. “Please, there has to be a reason. You can’t just shoot him.”
Mike drops his gaze, looking contrite. “We’re not trying to hurt him,” he says, his voice much softer.
“What was happening when he started acting uncontrollable?” I ask Mike. “You were just out on a run, you said, right? Did something happen?”
His eyes meet mine again. “Uh …” He pauses and scratches the back of his head. “We came to the spot where your tombstone stands.” Mike shakes his head. “He took one look at it?—”
“That’s it.” I dart around my sister and take off running again. Christophe’s wolf saw the tombstone and thought it was real. That’s what I can conclude, at the moment.
“Ashley, what are you going to do?” Emery asks, running ahead of me again.
“Please, Em, move. I?—”
“You what? You’re going to help?”
“Yes, of course. I have to let him know that I’m okay. I-It’s why he’s hurting.”
It’s an innate feeling that washes over me. As if I can read Christophe’s mind even though he’s not in my sight. He’s in pain because his wolf thinks I’m dead.
“And what happens when he sees you, huh?” Emery counters. “Remember what happens when he looks at you?”
The very sight of me brings him pain. My mind teams up with my sister’s words to remember what happens to Christophe when he looks at me.
The sinking feeling that started in the kitchen grows worse.
“I …” I trail off because I don’t have words.
Just then another one of Christophe’s wails rents through the air. My wolf howls inside of me, as well. Both the sound and sensation within my own body weaken me.
In the blink of an eye, I find myself on my knees, panting as pain passes through my body.
“I have to get back to them,” Mike says before taking off running.
I watch him for all of a millisecond before I make my decision. Summoning my wolf forward, I endure the bites of pain that still accompany each shift. My muscles bulge and transform from that of a human to that of an animal.
The instant I’m fully on my paws, I’m racing toward Christophe’s howls. My heart pounds against my ribcage and it has nothing to do with running.
I’m coming.
Silently, I tell Christophe that I’m on my way. Mike, with his head start and being larger and stronger, races ahead of me. I don’t look back to see if Emery has shifted and is with us. If I know my sister, she is, but I can’t look for her right now.
My wolf and my human have one single focus. Get to Christophe.
After about five minutes of running, I follow Mike into the familiar field where the tombstone the Nightwolf pack erected for me stands.
Mike barks out, causing Chance’s even larger wolf to turn in our direction. I search for Christophe. Though it’s my first time seeing his wolf, I instantly know him. It’s as if my wolf has a homing zone that signals him out.
Christophe’s wolf is not as big as Chance’s, or even Mike’s, but he is larger than mine. A fine, rust-red coat of fur blankets his body. For a second, I simply take his grandness in. His wolf is beautiful.
But then it strikes me what he’s doing.
Christophe’s wolf frantically paws and digs at the ground in front of the tombstone. It’s as if he’s attempting to get to something.
Me, my wolf clarifies for me. Christophe thinks my body is buried beneath the ground. Once again, he’s trying to save me.
My heart stutters against my chest.
I let out a yelp to get his attention. Either my wolf’s bark is too low or he’s in such a frenzy that he can’t hear or sense what’s going on around him.
I trot closer, only for my sister’s mate to get in between me and Christophe. His golden-brown, narrowed eyes meet mine. Chance’s wolf gives me a slight shake of his head.
Please, I say in my human voice, and it comes out in an almost whining bark from my wolf.
Chance shakes his head again.
Please. He needs me, I plead, my wolf conveying my message to Chance’s wolf.
It takes another second before the wrinkle between Chance’s eyes straightens, his face relaxing or relenting. Either way, he slowly takes a step back, removing his body from between me and Christophe.
Mate! my wolf calls out before I can form a coherent thought.
Christophe’s wolf stops moving. He doesn’t turn to look in my direction right away. At this point, I don’t know if I want him to.
Will the sight of my wolf cause him just as much pain as the sight of me in my human form? My heart couldn’t bear seeing him fall out in pain once again. Not on my account.
Mate! I’m here, my wolf barks out even as my human continues to grapple with the fear of bringing him more pain.
Christophe!
The sound comes out more forceful. Apparently, my wolf is growing impatient, waiting for our mate to look at us.
Eventually, Christophe slowly turns his head in our direction. My heart almost stops at the same time I stop breathing. We wait for the inevitable screech of pain and falling out that comes when he looks at me.
It doesn’t happen.
A couple of beats later, Christophe’s wolf’s eyes widen.
I gasp at how familiar those eyes look. The same hazel eyes I stared into in that photo in the kitchen just minutes ago.
Without thinking about it, my four legs start to carry me closer. Christophe’s wolf meets me halfway before coming to a stop directly in front of me.
He examines my entire wolf face as if seeking to memorize every part of it. Soon a low whimper comes from his mouth.
My wolf nods, then makes a high-pitched squeaking sound.
That’s when Christophe’s wolf moves in closer, burying his head in my neck. There’s some sort of commotion around us. I recognize Emery’s voice, but I don’t look back to see what’s happening.
Right now, the warm, fuzzy sensations zapping through my wolf’s body is all I care to know. Christophe’s wolf continues to bury his snout into my neck and inhale deeply.
A chuff escapes my wolf’s mouth. We’re laughing from the tickling feeling. Christophe’s wolf explores the other side of my neck, sniffing and inhaling my scent as he goes. He rubs his long body against mine, sniffing as he goes.
He’s memorizing my entire wolf.
A giggle escapes me when he even sniffs my rear-end, although it comes out sounding like a snort in my wolf’s voice. Yet, it’s not unlike my human snort.
When he rounds to my front again, Christophe presses his nose to my nose and closes his eyes. I miss the sight as soon as his eyelids lower, but I know what he’s doing.
He’s picturing my wolf behind those eyelids.
I, too, close my eyes, taking in the fresh air with a mixture of sweetness to his scent. Again, he buries his entire face into my neck. I’ve never felt this whole before. Well, almost whole.
As much as I love our wolves being able to be this close, a piece of me wishes it was our humans.
His wolf barks.
Run! my wolf suddenly declares, causing my eyes to pop open.
Christophe’s head raises and his gaze connects with mine. He then glances over his shoulder toward the mountains behind us. Then back to me.
Run!
My wolf becomes insistent. We want to go on a run with our mate. While I was still in the hospital, Emery told me about her first shift and the first run she went on with Chance beside her.
“The freest I’ve ever felt before,” she’d told me with such awe and amazement in her voice. Amazement I’m not even sure she recognized.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but that planted a tiny seed of envy. Since then, I’ve wanted to go on a run with Christophe.
I nod, and Christophe’s wolf makes an agreeable sound. I allow him to take the lead, to direct us on our first run together, but he stops short.
One look around Christophe’s body tells me why he stopped. Before him stands one huge, pissed off, growling wolf.
Alpha! My wolf immediately recognizes Chael in his wolf form. He’s the largest wolf out here, his coat of fur similar coloring to Chance’s, and even Christophe’s, but much thicker and darker than my mate’s fur.
My wolf whimpers.
I don’t know wolf pack protocols just yet, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize that Alpha Chael is angry. Why, I don’t know, but I can’t bear the thought of not going on this run with my mate.
For his part, Christophe continues to use his body, getting in between Chael and me. He’s almost in a protective stance. My mind goes back to a few nights earlier. The night when Christophe threw himself in between me and Chael at his home.
He’s doing the same now.
Protecting me, even though it’s evident I don’t need it. Chael wouldn’t hurt me.
Though with how angry he looks, I’m not certain I could say the same for Christophe. My wolf whines at the thought that our mate could be in danger.
Please, my human calls, and it comes out of my wolf’s mouth. I still have a great deal of trouble deciphering wolfspeak, but Chael seems to understand.
He extends his large head around Christophe’s body to look over at me.
Please. Just one run. I plead with my eyes this time around.
The snarling continues but softens. A breath later, he barks out something in Chance and Mike’s direction.
Christophe turns to me and nudges the side of my neck with his face before he turns to take off running behind Chance. He wants me to follow.
And so I do.
Less than a minute later, I’m running alongside Christophe’s wolf behind Beta Chance. Mike takes up the rear.
I peer over my shoulder to see Chael and Emery, in her wolf, hanging back. It looks as if Chael’s wolf is holding my sister back.
I don’t give myself time to figure out what that’s all about. For now, I look over to my left to catch sight of Christophe.
Another snort-giggle pushes through my wolf’s throat when we notice that he’s staring at us. Even as his body moves at top speed. Given the beauty of the sun setting behind the mountains around us, one would think he’d be more interested in the landscape.
But not.
Save for a few quick glances to ensure he doesn’t run into a tree or stumble over a rock, his eyes remain locked on me.
With his tongue lolling out of his mouth, Christophe’s wolf is the second most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
The first being my mate in his human form, of course.
But even as we run free with my heart thundering against my chest, I know that we’re not still completely free. Christophe still isn’t free.
Not from future imprisonment and not from the invisible shackles of what our captors did to his mind.
And I know that until he can look at me in his human form without bringing about extreme, unthinkable pain, neither one of us will ever be free.
I’m just as tied to his pain as I am to my own.