Chapter 5
Morning air hits my skin as soon as I step outside the next day. This time, knowing Jocko would be here, I layered up as a human would be expected to. It’s going to suck, but I look the part in dark leggings—which are paper thin—and a long-sleeve quarter-zip that has vents under the arms.
“Good morning, Aloka.” Jocko raises his arm overhead in a stretch as he moves to the bottom of the stairs to greet me with a cheeky smile.
“Morning. You ready?”
“I guess you don’t turn, so I’ll match your pace.”
For the first time, I don’t feel insulted. He’s just being nice.
When we hit the driveway, there’s no sign of Stark in the front yard. My stomach sinks, betraying me. It’s that face—that sharp, square jawline that ground together when Jocko and I finalized our plans before I went to my room for the evening—that haunts my dreams.
Fresh snow lines the road, our tracks gone from the previous day. Snowfall this time of year doesn’t seem to stop.
Jocko does as he said he would, matching my pace. He’s tall beside me, but not as towering as Stark. I absorb the fresh, icy air into my lungs and hold it there. No sprinting today—the goal is to build trust so I can be allowed out alone.
Jocko smiles and is quite chatty the entire time, talking about different people I’ve seen at dinner. I learn that Mitus and Kiya are mates, and that Hudry is only eighteen—the youngest one to show up. I almost need a picture book to remember them all.
When we reach Otis and Farias’s place, we slow and walk a few steps before turning around.
“Who are they?” I ask, glancing down their driveway.
“Do you mean why are they always at Stark’s?”
“Them and Graden. Is it normal for Elders to be around so much?”
He smiles at me, and we keep at a walk. “Graden is family to Stark, raised him after . . . well, I’ll let him fill in those blanks.
Otis ran this area’s cohort before becoming an Elder.
Story is that they were a lot alike at one time.
Most cohorts have a few Elders that stick close, but I don’t know if they come for dinner every night. That might just be ours.”
I don’t pick up the run again. Talking to Jocko reminds me of Pratt when his protective defenses dropped.
“What was that meeting about last night?” I pry, keeping my eyes away from his face, knowing I’ll give my intense curiosity away.
“Nothing, just Stark and the Elders disagreeing on what’s next. After Pratt’s death, things have escalated even more. A few other pack members came back with graze wounds.”
The world spins around me. My body keeps tricking me into thinking this is temporary, that he will walk through Stark’s door laughing, saying it was all some dumb test.
“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t even think.”
I wipe the wetness of my cheeks and force a smile. “No, it’s good. Let’s just pick it up.”
He doesn’t say anything else. I appreciate the space.
A rumble comes from down the road and Jocko glances behind us. It’s a truck engine; I focus on the sounds and hear two voices—men. I can’t tell if they’re human or pack members, but humans shouldn’t be up here. The sound grows and Jocko loops around me to be on the high side of the road.
A shadow in the woods moves, and my ears pick up soft, snow-crushing steps. Chances are it is a pack member out for a run, except they stay close and move slow.
The truck rumbles to a stop next to Jocko and he walks to meet it.
“Hey, Jocko. What dumbass shit are you into running like that now?” the man behind the steering wheel says, leaning out the window. He’s large and wide, and a full light beard covers the lower half of his face.
“Graham, just trying something new out.”
I keep my distance but don’t run off. I am judging his friends nevertheless. I don’t blame the comment. No werewolf wants to run on two legs for fun without reason.
“Wait a second.” The guy in the passenger seat leans across the center console. They look similar. Must be brothers. “Is that the human girl? Pratt was stupid for keeping her here.”
“Go back to the humans. We don’t need your kind here,” the driver adds, yelling as if I’m not a few feet away from them.
Jocko side-eyes me and goes to speak, but he doesn’t get a chance.
A black wolf emerges from the forest behind us.
Dark as the deep forest on a cloudy night, their shoulders reach the height of the truck’s roof.
Blue eyes I swear I’ve seen before don’t look at me as it steps out of the woods, the four-foot snowbanks nothing more than pennies to step over.
They let out a huge breath of air, forming a condensation cloud the size of me.
The passenger leans back in his seat and the driver’s hands both rise to the wheel.
“Shit. Hi, Stark.”
Stark? Those eyes are the same ones that bore into me at the dinner table.
“You know we’re right. Why the hell do you need that in your house? A human.” He spits out the last word.
Stark lets out a low growl, and without another word, the driver shifts into drive and takes off.
Before they make it out of sight, Stark is gone. Wolf speed is annoyingly quick.
“Sorry about that, Aloka.” Jocko moves closer to me but doesn’t reach out to touch me, which I’m grateful for. At least some men know what personal space is.
“You didn’t say it. Don’t worry. It’s far from the worst I’ve heard.” I shake out my limbs from head to toe.
“That. What you just did is a werewolf thing.” Jocko eyes me and mimics my shake.
“I guess growing up around them things rub off on you.” He nods accepting my explanation.
I do it again, trying to release the tension inside.
It’s not the men that bugged me. I managed to keep the heat in me below boiling, knowing the type when they started to talk.
It’s Stark—I have never seen black fur like that, not where it reflected blue.
His size has to be double what Pratt was.
A werewolf’s size and looks aren’t fully determined by their human body, so you never know what someone might look like. I want to see it again.
When we return to the house, it’s mid-morning. Even with our slower jog back and interruption, we took a lot more time than Stark and I. Despite the lack of privacy, I had a much better time than yesterday.
Jocko takes off soon after, needing to do his shift on patrol.
I linger in the driveway as he shifts so I can see what his form looks like—a huge light-brown wolf. Clouds form around his nose as he turns his head at me, gives a small wink, then tears off through the snow. Jealousy surges through me. The ease at which they all live, turning without a thought.
Back in the house, I slip into a pair of loose shorts and a tank top.
The windows of the house allow the sun to shine across the wooden floors as I find a book on the variety of wolf colorings, interested more than ever in hues of black.
The urge that flooded my fingertips to just touch his fur was a new one.
True black with no other markings or shading is a rare form. Historically, they have led packs in braveness and strength.
Light brown is a common coloring of wolf. Often, they have darker shades on their legs and may have the ability to assess scents from further distances.
Red and white wolves have been known in legends and myths.
A few hours into skipping through the book, Stark sits across from me in the pit, filling the entire chair. The sheer size of everything in this house was clearly designed for him and the other pack members. While I curl up at one end of the largest couch, feet up, I still fit with ease.
I should thank him for earlier, but it wasn’t a big deal. Eventually, they would have driven off after making a few more comments.
“What’d you find this time?” He tilts his head to read the title of the book in my lap. There’s a different edge to his voice this time, still hard yet not so icy.
I lift the book and wave it in the air for him to read. He nods and stays quiet, as do his thoughts, as he stares out the window past the rear deck to the trees. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, book open in my lap.
Those blue eyes come back to me, his lips hard-lined like that chiseled jaw. “How are you so calm after today?” Guess he is good at hiding his emotions.
“What do you mean?” I accept that he wants to talk and close my book. I have been on the same page for the last ten minutes anyway.
“The Juker brothers, in the truck. You just took it.” His eyebrows scrunch together as he scratches the back of his head.
“Exactly what should have I done?” They think I’m weak enough and I don’t pick useless fights. The people I fought with are gone, I think—even as a memory of the only person I ever really fought with surfaces.
“Cool your center.” Pratt drew his arms down in a smooth motion in front of me. Lake water washed at our ankles.
“I am,” I said, shaking my head.
“Think of the cold water at your feet. Pull it into you.”
“It’s not working.” Frustrated, I sat down in the water, soaking my clothes, causing steam to rise around me.
“Have patience, sweetheart,” Mom called from the shore.
Pratt’s and Mom’s teachings have prepared me way more than I expected. More so, reminding me that they might’ve seen this time coming more than I ever did—me alone without them.
Stark tilts his head at me, his blue eyes glowing from the sunlight in the window. They’re not large like in his wolf form, but still carry the same vibrant color. His dark hair sweptback. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.” I don’t laugh despite wanting to.
I can’t enjoy Stark’s presence, knowing I’m just some helpless thing he’s stuck with because of old-school rules.
Plus, this is temporary. I’ll convince them to let me go soon enough or my body will burn from the inside out. Not sure what will happen first.
“Not to be rude, but why do you stay here?”