Chapter 20
Iwait until I’m certain that Gretch won’t wake before I open the door, keys in hand, the notes folded up on the table.
Avoiding the lights, I head toward the med unit where my SUV is still parked. I start the engine and reverse while scanning my phone’s map. I head around a few buildings to the exit of the camp.
The same large man from my first encounter steps up to the window with his gun down. “Aly, our great new recruit.”
“Hi,” I say.
“Where are you going this early in the morning?” He looks into the cab, but there’s nothing to find.
I leave the shifter in Drive in case he doesn’t fall for my lie, not wanting to risk the truth I left in the letters.
“I have family who will be looking for me.”
“Well, don’t hesitate to come back. I’m glad we found you that day.” A genuine smile comes from the gate keeper.
“Me too.”
He waves me off and then leans against his truck, resuming his watch. I raise the window and lower my foot on the gas pedal, eager to get out of here. Up the road, two more wave me by, and I step on it. In the rearview mirror, only darkness remains.
Far down the winding outskirt roads, I make another turn and roll the windows down, breathing in the air. Back across the pack’s boundary, it’s lighter here.
I can’t help but think that Gretch will have likely woken up by now and will be reading my note.
Gretch,
I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay here with you.
You’ve been the truest friend I’ve ever had and if it were another lifetime, maybe we could stay close forever.
I know you feel at home here, but you’re such an amazing person and I believe there’s more for you in the world than the Uprising. Please don’t be afraid to walk away.
Be careful,
Aly
PS. Keep the clothes.
I left her one to give to Tripp too. Despite my hatred, I know what it’s like for people to hate things they don’t understand.
Tripp,
Thank you for helping me learn and being so supportive. I’m sadly just not cut out for this in the way I thought I might be. You’re such an excellent and patient teacher. I hope there’s more than the Uprising for you in the future. Maybe it’s time to leave the beasts and go home?
Don’t let fear feed you,
Aly
The SUV beeps and a light comes on the dash. I guess I should have brought extra gas with me when I left the city. I continue to drive, watching the marker move closer to the bottom until it’s obscuring the E.
A part of me doesn’t want to go to Stark’s place to find out if he’s been shot.
The other side of me wants to go home, to stop fighting the magic and run, explore for a bit, and just be me.
But the information I’ve gathered is important.
It could save us and Stark from running himself into nothing, refusing to rest and getting hurt . . . if I missed.
But I’ve already risked myself enough. I take a right turn toward Stark’s home, passing a few trucks on the road.
Eventually, my speed starts to decline, and I put the pedal to the floor. It works for only a second before dying off. I pull my car to the side of the road as the engine idles down to nothing and it finally rolls to a stop.
Damn spirits. I’m trying to save lives here.
My life lately has been nothing like what I expected or dreamed.
Pratt’s passing set me off on a path I can’t seem to steer away from.
I’d accepted my solitary life with Pratt, knowing he might go find someone to love one day.
Gretch’s cackling comes to mind, then Tripp’s snug embrace.
Maybe . . . I don’t know what I want anymore.
With nothing else I can do, I guess a run would be a nice way to cool down a bit before going to a house full of werewolves.
I leave the keys inside the car and stretch my limbs to run.
The only shoes I have are these clunky boots, so I toss them off, letting my socks soak in the melting snow.
I quickly tie my hair back, then tug at the long sleeves cuffing my wrists, and the rips are satisfying. Stupid human clothes.
The sun is high in the center of the road and warms my skin before taking off in a run.
The smile on my face grows as each foot lands.
I speed up and follow the curves of the road.
Dirt is starting to poke out where the tire tracks line the road.
A group of birds soars in twirls around the trees.
I take one more turn toward Stark’s, feeling more at ease than I have in weeks.
When the driveway entrance is another hundred yards away, I slow to a walk and take a deep breath. I will explain that I wanted to help, then it will all be fine. Stark might be angry and injured when I show up, but Jocko and Lirea will be happy.
The house isn’t visible until after the first narrow bend. Large vehicles are lined up at the house. The expansive timber-framed home makes me smile, despite the reason why I ended up in it.
The front door swings open and Stark steps into the doorway. He’s not hurt. Relief washes over me, but it’s gone in seconds when he charges toward me, his dark hair pointing in all directions. Those strong hands grip my shoulders and throw me onto the ground.
Fuck. Great reminder about his personal space issues.
He growls, and in seconds, it’s a majestic black wolf staring me down. If we could pause this and I could stare at his coat, I might accept that he threw me onto the muddy driveway.
“Hello,” I yell, trying to push up with my hands, but they keep slipping in the mud.
He doesn’t move closer, his lip curling to reveal long white canines.
“Could you like be normal? Change back.” I roll my eyes.
A deep growl comes from him, his eyes thinning into slits, and heat rises inside me. I need to be calm. I wish I could send thoughts to him again, except he can’t know it was me who shot at him or spoke into his mind.
He sniffs the air, and the growl comes again.
“Stark,” I say with a little desperation this time.
His large head shakes, nose flaring, and his claws grip deep into the ground, forming streaks on either side of me as he backs up.
I push up to my feet, wiping the mud and tiny rocks off my hands, leaving smears across my dark pants.
He turns back to his human self and stands upright in front of me.
Dressed in black, his shirt looks like it needs to be washed.
He reeks like wolf even more today, and I scan him to check—no bullet wounds.
The rest of the knots in my stomach from yesterday release.
“Red, you usually smell.” He growls and pulls at his hair. Dark circles surround his eyes.
“Oh, thanks.” I cross my arms.
“No.” He grabs my arms and moves his nose into my neck. I hear him sniff. “You smell like humans. Why do you smell like a human? And where the fuck have you been?” The Alpha energy pours off him now.
I glance behind him to see a few others standing on the front deck. One werewolf, Jocko, has his hackles raised.
I pull at my fingers. “I, um, I was with them. The ones who have been shooting at you.”
His eyebrows shoot up, then a firm hand slides down to my wrist, and he starts to drag me toward everyone.
Here we go. I’d be lying to myself if I expected him to learn boundaries since I left.
Jocko comes closer and growls at Stark. Leave her be.
Stark’s jaw ticks. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
Yeah, I don’t believe that yet.
But Jocko stands down.
“Everyone who isn’t already out of the house, get out. Now.” He swings the door open hard, cracking the hinges.
I see Lirea exit the door while he drags me in, ignoring everyone packing up, frantic to get out.
My skin burns under his grip as it tightens, and my feet struggle to keep up with his huge gait.
He hauls me down the hallway into his room, slams his door, locks it, and then tosses me onto the bed. What a strange murder setting.
“What the fuck do you not get about do not leave this house?”
“I, um . . . wanted to help.” I prop myself up on my elbows.
He glowers. “How the hell does you disappearing for over a week help anyone?” His hands run up and pull on his neck, leaving red marks on his skin.
He doesn’t get it. I had to go. “It’s not like I could have told you my plan.”
The wolf scent of him overpowers everything else—no sweet pine or cedarwood. The veins in his neck pump thick down his jaw and along his arms, one hand fisted white. “You just walked into the enemy’s camp without any protection? You’re not a werewolf, Red. You could’ve been killed.”
I’m more than a werewolf, I think. The insult stings. Not being seen as the weak one was a nice change.
“I’m not an idiot. I stumbled there needing help.” I point at the new forming scar on my arm.
Stark’s eyes scan over the rest of my body and his chest heaves. “Did they do something to you?”
“No, they taught me to shoot a gun.”
His body stiffens.
“While you’re too focused on the fact that I disobeyed Pratt’s stupid rules and the Elders, I was learning to shoot you, and I learned about what they’re doing.
How they’re doing it. But don’t worry—Pratt will forgive you from his grave.
” I mock his protectiveness. He’s mad. He always is.
But I want him to understand why I went, that I wasn’t being na?ve.
Stark steps closer and leans over me. I stare at the lines coming out of his neck as he takes a slow breath.
“This isn’t about anyone but you, Red.” His serious face gets close, and his cedarwood smell hits through the wolf mask. I breathe it in and try not to sigh. The heat across my body flickers between my legs, and I clamp them shut.
“It’s not?” I get out between breaths.
“No.”
Before I can answer, his mouth smashes into mine. It’s warm, and my hands react—wrapping around his neck, pulling him down further onto the bed. His knees press into the mattress, and I lift my hips up to meet his. Anything for more. I want to touch him, feel him. Everywhere.
My hands flicker with flames, growing with tingles, and I trace them under his shirt, grazing him with my nails.
His mouth pushes harder into mine, our tongues taking turns exploring.
His lips drop, lining my jaw and tracing his tongue down my neck.
Those blue eyes darken, his face flushed.
I pant to catch my breath. Stark’s huge frame is on top of me, his length pressing in between my heat. I want to . . .
Fuck.
I squirm away, and his grip eases. I slide off the bed and run for the door. He’s . . . No. No, I can’t . . .
I fumble the lock and fly across the hall into my room. I shut the door and twist the new shiny lock.
You don’t kiss someone’s mate. Ever. And I didn’t want to stop at kissing.
I slow my lungs as I look around. The entire room is trashed.
Every drawer of both dressers and the nightstands are pulled open, one of the large drawers on the floor.
The books are off the shelves stacked in piles.
The mattress leans against one of the bed posts.
A heap of blankets sprawls out toward where my clothes now lay.
My throat tightens, and I run to the bathroom.
Products have been tossed in every direction.
I scan until they stop on a box underneath the tub.
I bend to grab it. Brunette. A human girl’s face smiles from the front of the box, her hair similar to my own.
I hope this was thrown there and not actually looked at.
I quickly get to work, putting all the products, from hair ties to moisturizer, back in bins and tucking them under the sink, burying the hair dye at the bottom.
My fingers find my lips, and I bite my cheek. It was a mistake. He’s already chosen his mate.
In the bedroom, I heave the mattress over harder than I intend, and it slams back onto the bed frame.
A knock comes at the door. “Aloka?”
Hopping over piles of my things, I unlock the door and swing it open.
“I’m so glad you’re back.” Then Jocko covers his nose. “You stink, though.”
“What a nice greeting,” I say, laughing.
He scans the mess at his feet. “I sort of forgot about this. Do you want some help?”
“Sure,” I say.
This was the greeting I wanted. Nice and calm.
The cleaning helps take my brain away from the awful thing I did. Jocko starts restocking the books while I gather clothes. I slide a drawer shut, and the feeling of eyes makes me glance at the door. Stark stands in the doorway in new clothes, his hair darker and wet.
“What’s up, man?” Jocko asks.
“She’s not leaving my sight.”
I keep my response to myself.
“Well then, help, man. It’s your mess.”
What?
Stark nods and joins him in sorting the books.
Why did he trash his own home looking for me? He’s meant to keep me safe. I know that, and I left without a word. Part of me thinks he was only reacting to the duty that owns him. The twisted part of me wishes he just wanted me. If it had been him gone, I’d have done far worse than trash a room.
In an hour, we’re done, and I expect Stark to leave with Jocko for dinner, but he doesn’t. He goes across the hall and then slides a chair into the far corner of my room. I eye him and leave for the ensuite to shower—since I do reek like a human.
I close the door behind me and strip. The scent of my rose soaps makes me smile, along with the large waterfall showerhead.
I stay there for a while, letting the water run, ignoring the fact that I have a new watchman who I need to stay the fuck away from.
How can he act like nothing happened? This is all so wrong.
Stark sits in the chair, silent. I ignore him as I turn off the lights and climb into bed. I haven’t slept fully since that night on Tripp’s couch and my body is slowing down.
“You’re not eating?” he asks, breaking the silence.
Ignoring him, I pull the sheet up over my head, sinking into the soft pillow, and close my eyes.
Tomorrow, I’m going to tell the Elders everything I learned, and it will all be okay.