Chapter 22 #2
Before I could get to Vincent, he was standing taller, emotion back in his eyes, his breathing steady and body noticeably at ease.
Terran displayed a similar calm, but it was quickly replaced with confusion.
Both the Chicago werewolves stared at the wolf sleeping at my feet.
Curiosity-laden glares seared into the wolf.
He must have believed there was imminent danger because his eyes snapped open. He stood, growling.
“Everyone calm down,” I snapped, repeating my demand in a gentler voice, acknowledging we were on the precipice of a potentially violent situation and my tenuous thread of patience was about to snap and all of them were in danger of being whacked by my baton.
“I need to know who this wolf is,” Terran said, his voice also low and gentle, fully aware of the fragile nature of the situation.
Moving to the wolf, I kneeled in front of him.
“Wolfie.” I knew damn well wolves couldn’t roll their eyes or smirk in disdain, but he’d done a convincing imitation of it. Leaning in closer, I whispered, “If you let him change you to human, you can tell me what you want to be called. Okay?”
That animal smirk was still there when he lazily walked toward Terran with all the enthusiasm of saying “fine, damn.”
Terran stalked closer with the annoying cloak of arrogance and authority that every Alpha wore like armor.
Crouching down, he stretched out a hand.
The wolf’s eyes followed the hand intently as it moved toward him.
Terran’s fingers brushed the wolf’s ruff.
In an instant, Terran jerked upright, shoulders rolling, eyes wide and wild.
His breath came in harsh, ragged pulls, veins standing out starkly against his skin.
Sweat broke out instantly on his temples.
His fingers curled as claws emerged and disappeared in a matter of seconds, a full-throated, involuntary howl ripping from him as he struggled to prevent himself changing into a wolf.
Terran’s response made Vincent recoil as if he’d been tazed as he fought against the triggering event that forced a whole pack to change when the Alpha was made to.
The air vibrated with a peculiar power I’d never experienced.
Virulent and feral. Vincent grunted and doubled over, bracing himself on his knees.
Moisture pooled around his brown, matted hair that clung to his head.
Terran had wrenched his hand from the wolf as if he’d touched fire. A low rumble came from his chest. There wasn’t anything amicable about the way he looked at the wolf. My wolf. A wolf that was strong enough to force him into a change.
I didn’t like the way Terran’s glare bore into my wolf friend. I positioned myself between them.
“Are you okay?” I asked Terran. Behind his anger and bravado lingered curiosity and apprehension.
“He found me. I know as much about him as you do,” I said before he could prattle off an exhausting list of questions.
It was shocking that Terran didn’t know more and that Lance hadn’t shared his experience with the wolf.
But that was the nature of packs. In an effort to get an advantage, they withheld a lot of information from each other.
Terran’s expression softened. Emotions shone in his eyes as he teetered between the need to dominate the wolf and sympathy for whatever he’d experienced that forced him to retreat into his wolf.
Distracted by the struggling Alpha, I split my attention between him and my environment, listening for more threats.
From the perk of the wolf’s ears, he was doing the same.
“What happened to you?” Pity filled Terran’s question.
It looked like he wanted to kneel by the wolf but thought better of it.
I’m sure it involved some ingrained Alpha nonsense that prevented him giving the appearance of submission.
Although the pack mentality remained, there seemed to be genuine concern for the wolf.
“Trauma can cause a wolf to adopt his animal form long term,” Vincent explained, “but usually they can be coaxed back into their human body.” His voice clipped off, refraining from stating in Terran’s presence the part about only a stronger werewolf being able to trigger a change.
“You need to find his pack’s Alpha,” Terran told me.
“What if he’s the Alpha?”
“If he chose this form to escape, he’s not the Alpha anymore.
He would more than likely be a second.” Terran made a face, and I wondered if it was from the knowledge that even a lower-status wolf was stronger than he was.
The way other packs responded to the mere mention of Terran’s name, I’d always figured he was one of the most powerful in the country.
Watching him reconcile being in the presence of one stronger—even after adopting their wolf as their permanent form—was uncomfortable to watch. He quickly grew tired of it.
“After you find out who’s trying to poison you, look for his pack,” were his parting words. Wish he’d offered to help. Finding the wolf’s pack would be easier with pack assistance.
I kneeled beside the wolf, stroking lightly over his fur.
I ran my hand along his jaw and leaned close so only he could hear.
“Who are you?” I implored against his ear.
I moved, so that we were face to face. For a heartbeat, the wolf seemed to look through me.
Something in his expression changed—not just animal intelligence in understanding my question, but something deeper: sadness, yearning.
“Let’s go home,” I sighed. “I’ll get you something delicious to eat.
” I hoped he’d enjoy the steak thawing in my fridge.
If he didn’t, he’d have to hunt on his own.
There was no way I had the emotional fortitude to provide dine-in service for this type of predator.
Bambi was safe from me ever providing him as din-din for the wolf.
As we walked back to the house, I was painfully aware of the magic echoing from the poison arrow in my hand.
My wolf friend wasn’t a pet—more like a compact car-sized protector that ensured no one came within a foot of me. I was definitely the talk of the neighborhood.
“She’s not human.”
“I wish she’d move—there’d be fewer witches and other creepy things around.”
“Who has a wolf as a companion?”
“I bet that’s a werewolf she kidnapped—I knew she was trouble.”
“Vampire food and now werewolf consort.”
Most of the comments were the result of active imaginations, but made about me just quietly enough to pretend they were whispering.
I wasn’t helping the matter by traipsing through the neighborhood with midnight menace at my side, brandishing an arrow in one hand, a baton in the other, and having a one-sided conversation trying to coax the wolf into changing into his human form.
A dejected whimper made me believe he couldn’t change.
So, I focused on what was in front of me while the wolf’s head swiveled, taking in the surroundings and leaving me confident another attack was coming.
Nearly three blocks from my house, my companion stopped.
A deep rumble reverberated in his chest, and he turned around, slowly walking in the opposite direction.
Before I could speak, he nudged his head in the direction of my house and sprinted away.