Chapter Thirty #2
A low growl to the left of us cuts him off.
I recognize the growl as belonging to the alpha; it’s loud and menacing, a clear warning for us to get off his territory.
He hasn’t growled at me like that for quite some time, so I assume it’s Dorian’s scent that’s throwing the wolf and making him defensive.
I squeeze Dorian’s hand, warning him to remain silent.
I told him what to do and expect on our way up here, though I still thoroughly disagree with his presence.
“It’s me,” I tell the alpha, searching the darkness to try to get a glimpse of him.
Slowly, I unzip my backpack and withdraw the container of cookies.
My movements earn me a much louder, much more threatening growl, but I persevere.
I uncap the container, grab a cookie, and gently toss it in the direction where the growling stems from.
Abruptly, the growling cuts off. A few moments of daunting, hair-raising silence pass, before I hear paws crunching the dead leaves of the forest floor.
The alpha comes into view, eyes narrowed and ears high. His jaw works as he eats my offered cookie. His gaze fixes on me, and his ears perk with recognition, but when he looks at Dorian, they flatten against his head and he growls again.
Praying to whatever higher power exists that I haven’t made a colossal mistake by coming here and bringing another human with me, I pull Dorian close, rubbing my hand up and down his arm.
“This is my friend,” I say, hoping the alpha realizes that Dorian’s no threat because he’s here with me. We’re near the alpha’s den, which means we’re near the pups of the pack, which makes bringing a stranger even more dangerous. Wolves are extremely protective of their young.
Slowly, I sink down to my knees. Dorian follows suit, and we both showcase our submission to the alpha. The wolf’s growls slow down, then cut off completely. He’s still snarling, showing us a flash of yellow teeth as a warning.
I hold out the container with cookies, inviting him to take as many as he wants. Usually, I’m careful with how many treats I give him, but tonight, I’m willing to cater to this wolf’s whims if it means he doesn’t maul Dorian to death.
The alpha takes a step forward, sniffing the air.
When he catches Dorian’s scent, he releases another bone-chilling growl.
His posture goes from defensive to a crouch that announces he’s gearing to attack.
My heart pounds with such vigor I’m afraid it might beat out of my chest, and fear curdles the blood in my veins.
On instinct, I shuffle forward, snagging the alpha’s attention. This wolf knows me, he’s claimed me as a member of his pack; I helped his mate bring their beautiful pups into the world. I can get him to settle down.
As soon as I’m a few feet away from Dorian, the alpha calms, and that’s when the realization hits me.
He wasn’t growling and gearing to attack because he perceived Dorian as a threat to him, he was doing that because he perceived Dorian as a threat to me, or perhaps as a contender for the alpha’s claim over me.
The wolf breaches the distance between us, cookies forgotten, and butts his head into my shoulder.
I stroke my fingers through his fur, murmuring and cooing to him, assuring him that I accept his claim.
When he’s settled enough that his fur’s no longer standing on end, I give him a stroke over his muzzle.
“Shuffle forward slowly, Dorian,” I murmur. “Very slowly.”
Silently, Dorian follows my instructions.
The alpha tenses, his eyes switching over to watch Dorian carefully, but he doesn’t growl or adopt an attacking stance again.
Over the course of several minutes, I encourage Dorian closer and closer, keeping a careful eye on the alpha’s demeanor to gauge whether I’m pushing too far.
When Dorian’s directly beside me and the wolf, I take his hand in mine and gently guide it forward.
The alpha watches, eyes narrowed, teeth slightly bared.
I know I’m risking both of our fingers, but since Dorian insisted on coming, I either have to get the alpha to accept him or hope to god we can run fast enough to escape a pack of angry wolves.
The alpha sticks his nose in the air, inhaling my scent combined with Dorian’s. He releases a low chuff, licking his lips. Not great, not terrible.
“This is my friend,” I tell the wolf. He can’t understand me, but he’ll catch the cadence of my words and the energy behind them.
I hope. “He’s very nice, and he wanted to meet you, since you’re also an important friend.
” I rub my thumb over Dorian’s knuckles.
The alpha inhales deeply again, nostrils flaring.
His attention focuses on us, alert and watchful but no longer threatening.
His head leans forward until his glimmering teeth are a mere few inches away from Dorian and I’s hands.
After a moment, he chuffs again and turns around.
His head tilts back and he releases a low howl, communicating something to his pack.
I hope to hell he’s not telling them to attack.
Only a second passes before the faint noises of rustling sound from all around me, and several wolves emerge into the clearing.
They all approach the alpha for direction.
Some pause to paw at me or chuff at me in greeting, but Dorian goes largely ignored, thank god.
The alpha turns his attention back to the container of cookies.
“You’re in the clear,” I breathe, relieved. “He gets it, I think. He won’t hurt you.” If the alpha was going to attack, he would’ve done it by now.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dorian murmurs. I glance at him, seeing an expression of sheer shock written on his features. He stares between me and the wolves with a mixture of awe and trepidation. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, giving his head a faint shake. “I thought I was going to die.”
“There’s a reason I didn’t want you coming with me,” I say drily. “What did you expect? A warm and cuddly greeting? These are wild wolves, Dorian. They had us surrounded. If provoked, they could’ve killed both of us.”
“I don’t think they’d ever hurt you,” Dorian says.
A few yips draw my attention away from him, and a wide smile spreads on my face as the pups of the pack come tumbling towards me. They’ve grown a bit since I’ve seen them last; at this age, they grow like damn weeds. They’re still adorably clumsy and eager for attention.
They clamber over themselves as they get to my lap, whining and yipping for attention. Their mom takes a seat nearby, watching me interact with them. She’s usually comfortable with me holding them, but I think Dorian’s presence right beside me is making her uneasy.
I take Dorian’s hand and gently guide him to the wolf pup who’s curled up over my legs. He’s the calmest of the three, and barely even stirs as I guide Dorian to pet him.
“Can’t say I’ve ever petted a wild wolf cub before.”
“Pup,” I correct.
“Pup,” he echoes, vague amusement coating his tone. “Christ, they’re cute.”
The alpha finishes with his fill of the cookies and trots up to me, butting his head against my backpack and releasing a whine.
“Sorry, my dude. I didn’t bring any more. What you see is what you get,” I say, smiling faintly.
He chuffs, spins in circles a few times to get comfortable, and lays down beside me, his huge body pressed up against mine.
“What the fuck,” Dorian breathes.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Honestly, I think he sees me as his pet. Cute, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know if cute is the word I’d use,” Dorian murmurs, clearing his throat. “How long do you usually stay?”
“An hour or two,” I reply. “Settle in, Dorian, and don’t forget that you asked for this.”