Chapter 14 Tobias
TOBIAS
Isleep in Rowen’s room again the following night.
And the next.
And the next.
On the fourth night, I stay in my room.
It takes forever to fall asleep. My sheets feel wrong. The mattress too flat. Too cold. Too empty. When I do finally drift off, the dreams come hard—shattered and violent. I wake up gasping, chest tight, and shirt damp with sweat, like I’ve been running for miles.
I stare at the ceiling. My entire body shakes.
Rowen said I could go to him whenever I needed, and he’d meant it. I know he did. But needing that every night?
Needing him every night?
That’s not comfort—that’s dependence.
And I refuse to be someone’s burden.
Especially after all they’ve done for me.
But, gods—how I want to. I ache to. Rowen has this way of making the nightmares go quiet. Like he pulls the noise right out of me and leaves the silence behind. But I can’t keep asking him to hold me together. Not when I can’t offer him anything in return.
My gaze snags on the camera on the nightstand, catching a sliver of moonlight through the curtains. I reach for it without thinking. The weight of it settles into my palms like a familiar truth. Solid. Real. Something I lost and now have again… thanks to him.
He’s given me so much. Everything, really. I need to be careful.
My throat tightens.
“Dammit,” I whisper, pressing the heel of my hand to my eyes.
Every time Rowen touches me, it just makes me ache for more of it. I crave it, even though I shouldn’t. Worse, I don’t even know if these feelings are real or if they’re just because he looks at me like I matter. Like I’m not something to be feared. He makes me feel… everything. Seen. Heard. Safe.
But safety is dangerous. Safety gets ripped away.
And if I turn into my mother—if whatever lived in her lives in me—I’ll betray him. I’ll destroy him.
The thought suffocates me. I sit up, elbows on my knees, camera clutched against my chest like a lifeline.
Half-blood.
Half-blood.
Half-blood.
The word spins like a blade, catching on every soft piece of me, slicing it raw.
It doesn’t feel like a description.
It feels like a sentence.
Like something in me is already decided.
I always feared my mother.
But now, more than anything, I fear myself.
The panic climbs too fast, too sharp. I grab a blanket and move to the windowsill, curling into the cold glass. Outside, everything is still. Quiet. Small white flakes drift and dance lazily through the air. The sky is just starting to shift to deep indigo, like the sun is barely waking up.
The color gives me hope. A small reminder that the world isn’t as dark as it is in my head.
I lift the camera and take a picture. Then another. The sound steadies me. With the blanket around me, the horizon stretching wide and promising, I start to settle. Breathe in. Breathe out. The sky brightens with every minute, the color blooming into blue.
I don’t know how long I sit like that. Long enough that my stomach growls. The quiet isn’t as scary now.
I catch movement near the trees. Out in the yard, three wolves trot back to the house, their tails high and breaths coming out in thick clouds as if they’d just had the best run of their lives.
One of them steals the show, his black-tipped ears standing out against the delicate white backdrop. Click.
Rowen nips at his packmate, who nips back playfully, then he stops and looks up at me. His ears perk up and he wags his tail like an idiot. It makes me grin before I can stop myself. He yips once, tongue lolling, then takes off running toward the house.
The way my heart squeezes. He’s so damn cute. I keep trying to pull away, but my heart is begging to lean in.
A few minutes later, there’s a soft knock on my door. Rowen pushes it open, still flushed from the cold. His hair is wild, cheeks pink, and eyes bright. He looks annoyingly perfect in red sweatpants and a gray long-sleeved shirt.
“Hey.” He crosses the room and sits in front of me on the window ledge, close enough that our legs bump. “How are you doing?”
I shrug.
He studies me. “You didn’t come in my room last night.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I look away. “Yeah, I… didn’t need to.”
“Toby.” He says my name like he knows I’m lying.
I bite my lip.
“You know you can, right? I don’t mind.”
“You need sleep too,” I say softly. “I can’t—”
“I sleep just fine.” He puts a hand on my knee. “I sleep better knowing if you’re sleeping.” A shy smile tugs at his mouth before he adds, “I woke up twice looking for you.”
When I don’t reply, he glances toward the window. “It’s actually not bad out this morning. The sun feels amazing.”
“It looks pretty.”
Rowen points to my camera. “You want to go see it?”
I blink. “Like… go outside?”
He grins. “Yeah. You know, fresh air. Sunlight. Cold air in the lungs.” He makes a face. “I usually hate winter, but like I said, it’s not bad today. Come with me?”
My first instinct is to tell him no. I haven’t been outside since… I don’t even remember. Not here. Not even back at the club. Have I even breathed fresh air since I lived on the park bench? I’m so used to the walls and shadows closing in that I forget how big the world is.
He must see the hesitation on my face because he says softly, “You’re not stuck in here, Toby. You’re not our prisoner. You know that, right? We’d never treat you that way.”
The word lands heavier than he means it to. Prisoner.
Something loosens in my chest.
No, of course I’m not. The pack has never made me feel that way. Not once. Even when they’d locked me in the room that first day, it was only for my own good. They haven’t since. They haven’t drugged me or held me down again.
“Y-yeah,” I say. “Okay.”
Rowen is up in a heartbeat, running across the hall to his room to rummage through his closet. He tosses me a thick red jacket with a fleece hood, a black beanie, and a matching pair of snow gloves.
“These should fit,” he says, tossing me some boots too.
Before putting them on, I slide an extra layer of sweatpants on, just to be sure.
When we head downstairs, Forest looks up from the table. “Where are you two going?”
“Outside,” Rowen says. “Tobias needs some sunshine.”
“It’s not safe,” Forest argues. “He—”
“We’ll stay close,” Rowen cuts in.
Something in his expression must convince Forest I need this, because he nods once. “Fine, but stay in sight.”
“We’re not leaving the yard,” Rowen promises. “Ivy, Red? Want to join us?”
They immediately get up.
Tobias asks quietly, “Who was that with you earlier?”
“Taren and Neal. Taren is the lighter wolf.”
Then, without a shred of hesitation, Rowen shucks his pants and shirt.
I stare at his perfect rear end a little too long, and my cheeks flame red.
His shift is over before my mind can fully react.
One second, I’m staring at Rowen’s naked butt—the next, his fur ripples into view and he’s gone, replaced by an adorable wolf with a fluffy black-tipped tail.
How the hell does it happen so fast?
He paws a button on the wall, which opens the door, then bolts outside. His siblings rush past me on all fours.
The cold hits me as soon as I’m outside, as sharp and clean as it had appeared through the window. The air itself smells like it’s brand new. I breathe it in deeply, the chill burning my lungs in the best way.
For a second, everything inside me goes quiet.
Rowen was right. I needed this.
Stepping into the sun, I close my eyes and lift my face, breathing in for a long moment. Incredible.
A furry beast bumps my hip, and Rowen’s tongue lolls as he looks up at me.
I reach out, then pause. “Can I… pet you?”
He shoves his head under my hand. I scratch his ears, his neck, down along his ribs to his belly, making his back paw kick furiously. I laugh and brace myself for his weight. “Oh my gods, Ro. You’re so cute.”
Ivy darts in and nips at Rowen, and the three of them tumble into the snow in a ridiculous pile of fur and paws. I snort out a laugh before I can stop myself. Up close, they aren’t nearly as terrifying as they were that night in the club. Actually, it’s… kind of mesmerizing.
Rowen’s wolf is beautiful. All deep red fur with black shading underneath, and those black-tipped ears I’d recognize anywhere. Ivy matches him, but lighter—gray dusted over her belly like smoke. Red’s coat is ash gray, his paws dark as ink.
They look like wolves in shape, sure—but not really. They’re bigger. Broader. Rowen’s shoulder reaches my waist when he presses against me. They’re so graceful. Powerful. Playful.
It should scare me.
But instead warmth spreads through my chest. I love this. I love them.
The thought slithers in before I can stop it, making my heart sink. I can’t get attached. I can’t. What if I shift one day and become feral? What if I hurt one of them?
Don’t think about it, Toby. Don’t.
We circle the house, and I take pictures of everything. The trees, the icicles on the roof, the carved paths through the snow from the wolves. Anything and everything makes my shutter finger happy. Before I know it, the memory card is full.
On our second loop around the house, Rowen breaks away from the others, running straight toward me.
I barely have time to brace myself before he jumps, paws hitting my chest with enough force to knock the air from me.
I tumble backward, landing softly in the snow.
Then he’s on me, licking my face and whining happily as he rubs his head against mine.
“Rowen!” I sputter, trying to push him off, but Ivy and Red join the pile, tails wagging, snow flying everywhere.
“Oh my god, guys!”
Wrapping my arms around Rowen, I tackle him and pull him to my chest. He doesn’t fight it. I bury my face in his fur and laugh. It bursts out of me, full and unguarded. I laugh until my side hurts, and laugh until everything feels bright again.
When I let him go, he licks my cheek one more time before getting up.
By the time we finally stumble back to the house through the mud room, I’m breathless and soaked. Red and Ivy disappear quickly, cheeks flushed with joy. Mine probably are too.
Rowen shifts easily, and my brain short-circuits. It isn’t his rear end I see this time. Rowen is facing me and holy shit, I see everything. As in, everything. I blink and trail my eyes up his thick thighs and toned stomach to his slightly hairy chest.
I can’t move, or look away. He is so ridiculously beautiful.
Rowen doesn’t seem to notice my fawning, thank gods. He grabs the pair of sweats and pulls them on, saying something about making some hot cocoa. He tugs a shirt on next then grins at me. “Feel better?”
Somehow, I find my tongue. “Y-yeah.”
He unzips my jacket and pulls it off, then helps peel away my sweaty sweatshirt. Once the extra pair of sweat pants are gone, Rowen pulls me against him.
My heart skitters.
The hug is tender yet tight, his face nuzzled into the side of my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
I hug him back, not knowing where it came from—and honestly not caring.
“You’re allowed to laugh, you know,” Rowen murmurs softly. “You don’t always have to hold it in.”
The words hit something deep. I exhale hard, holding him even tighter. It’s like Rowen notices things no one else has ever bothered to.
I change the subject before I get emotional. “You were saying something about hot chocolate?”
Rowen chuckles as he pulls away, keeping one arm around me. “Right, but the real question is, with or without marshmallows?”
I make a face. “Do you even need to ask?”
“Without them, it is then.”
I pinch him. “You’d better not skip the marshmallows, mister!”
We walk out together, his arm around my shoulders and mine around his back.
For the first time in several days—or months, if I’m being honest—I feel good. Better than good. I feel happy.
Because of him. Because of all of them. This house. This pack. This feeling of belonging.
I just pray whatever lives in me stays sleeping.
Because if it wakes, I don’t know who I’ll become.
Or who I’ll destroy.