by T. S. Joyce
Easton approached slowly, horrified as Mom cried over him. His neck had been snapped. No.
“Russ,” Mom cried. “What do I do? Can I reset it?”
“No,” Dad wheezed.
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand! How did this happen? No. It’ll be okay. I’ll fix it. Easton get back in the house! Don’t look!”
Maybe Dad had fallen out of a tree or over a ravine. His shifter healing had worked, but froze his broken neck at the wrong angle. Some injuries were too bad for even shifters to survive. All his life, Dad had taught him not to get careless with his healing. Easton heaved breath as Mom wept and positioned herself above his body. She was going to re-break his neck.
“Mom,” Easton said, voice thick. He shook his head. “It won’t work.”
“Mae,” Dad choked out.
“What is it Russ. What is it?”
“Mae…I’m sorry.” A long last breath escaped his lips, and his eyes rolled closed.
“No!” Mom screamed. She pulled hard on Dad’s head, but breaking a neck wasn’t so easy. Not for weak humans. “Don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me!”
Mom’s agony tore at his own burning heart. Dad. Easton dropped to his knees in shock at how broken he looked. How grotesque he looked in death with his bulging neck. He’d come back to say goodbye. Tears streamed down his face as he buried his head against Dad’s stomach. He was still warm and smelled of life. “Dad,” he murmured, gripping his clothes and dampening his shirt with tears.
The raven fluttered and flapped in the branches above, but he couldn’t pull himself away from Dad’s body. He and mom sat like that for a long time, crying against him until he grew cold and stiff.
Easton had never heard someone break before, but he knew whatever was happening to Mom was awful.
Mom shook his body. “I was going to take him and leave, and you wouldn’t let me! He can control his bear now. We could’ve made it! And you ripped that away from me. And now you’ve left me? You’ve left us here in this hell you created? You can’t.” She clenched his shirt in her fists. “You can’t, Russel. Do you hear me? Easton will be all alone!”
All alone?
So many tears. Mom’s face leaked on and on, long after Easton had run dry. He eased away, lay against a felled tree and watched Mom cry. The evening shadows had turned to darkness as the sun sank behind the mountains. The light from the cabin was the only thing that lit the clearing. Not even the moon was full enough to lend them adequate light. Mom stood up, muttering strings of words that didn’t make any sense at all. They meant nothing. Maybe they weren’t even words at all.
Mom didn’t see him anymore as she stood and began gathering wood. Her eyes had gone empty, and her tears had dried on her cheeks. She couldn’t see as well in the dark as him, yet she found wood as though she had the forest memorized.
Silently, he helped her. He was small yet, only eight, but Mom was pregnant and heartbroken, and whatever she was doing right now, he could lighten her load. Alongside her, he dragged wood into the clearing in front of their cabin until the early hours of the morning. She didn’t answer him when he asked questions, so he gave up trying.
And when the first streaks of pink brushed the horizon, Mom asked him to help her drag Dad’s body to the pile of wood. And then she lit a match and watched him burn.
Easton buried his face against Mom’s side and clutched her dirty dress, unable to watch the fire consume his dad. “Why?” he asked.
Mom inhaled deeply and asked, “Easton?” as if she’d only just noticed him clutching onto her.
“Why are we burning him?”
“Because, my boy. Your daddy would haunt these woods for always. You and I see the ghosts, Easton. We’ll burn his belongings and put salt around the house next. That’s what you do, Easton. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said on a choked breath. He could smell Dad burning.
“Repeat it for me.”
“Burn the bones, burn the belongings, salt.”
“That’s a good boy.” Her voice sounded strange—dreamy—as she watched the flames. “You’ll need to do the same thing for my body.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Promise me, Easton. Don’t let me haunt you.”
And that’s when he felt it.
Mom’s belly was pulled up tight like a drum.
Easton gritted his teeth against the pain in his middle. He could still smell the smoke from the funeral pyre. The ribbon had done that. The raven’s trinkets held magic in them. She’d left it on the window sill for him to find when he’d gone back to the house with Mom. It was the raven’s way of telling him she was sorry for his loss, though how a young crow understood so much was beyond him.
Maybe she’d been his spirit animal.
If he hadn’t held her gift in his hand now, he could’ve convinced himself she hadn’t existed at all.
Chapter Eight
Maybe this was what a panic attack felt like. Aviana gripped the wheel and tried to stop panting. Keep it up, and she was going to pass out.
Shit, she couldn’t do this.
She thought of Easton’s kiss last night and shook her head to rattle out the weak thoughts. Yes, she could, because Easton had been gentle with her. He wasn’t all weapons and darkness. He was good in his middle, just like he always had been.
Last night, she’d seen the spark of the boy she’d fallen in love with.
Easton was hers.
By the time she pulled under the Grayland Mobile Park sign, however, she was back to full-blown panic-mode. Today, she was going to put herself out there further than she ever had in her entire life. She was going to declare what she needed to make her life into the one she wanted.
Unfortunately, that life had somehow grown to include a crew of bear shifters—her biggest natural fear. From early childhood, she’d been told how volatile and murderous the apex predator shifters were. They weren’t like her people, who were scavenger shifters, politely preying on already deceased things. Bears killed what they wanted and didn’t give second thoughts to carcasses.
Great risk brought the possibility of great reward, though, and Easton was worth it. He really was. Deep breath. Chest out, back straight. Smile. Bigger. Let’s do this.
The Gray Backs sat around a communal fire pit in front of a semi-circle of trailers. They wore light jackets to ward off the cool March night and sat in brightly-colored plastic chairs. Easton wasn’t here. Well, good. This would be easier without him watching because she wasn’t here to see Easton right now. She was here to talk to his alpha, Creed.
The Gray Backs had gone quiet by the time she stumbled out of her car. “Hi!” she said, much more high pitched than she’d intended as she flapped her hand in a wave.
“Ha! Pay up, Griz,” Willa said, pointing to Matt.
Matt rolled his eyes and handed Willa a wadded up five dollar bill from his pocket.
Okaay.
A yipping attack dog the size of a soccer ball charged Aviana and bounced around her feet, barking. It was brown and white, and someone has shaved a mohawk down the entire length of his back and head. She would’ve been more intimidated if he didn’t lick her ankles between barks.
“Peanut Butter Spike. Get down!” Gia commanded.
Aviana stepped gingerly around the yapper and opened the back door, then struggled under the weight of a massive box of beer cans. She hefted it toward the Gray Backs, breathing heavily as she stumbled forward, trying not to step on the tiny dog circling her feet. She set the gift on the ledge of the brick fire pit. “I did research on lumberjacks, and the Internet said you were hairy, wore flannel, belched a lot, and drank lots of beer.”
Willa grabbed her stomach and cackled. “What site were you looking on?”
“The first one that came up on the results.” Good God, she wished she could lift her gaze from the ground right now. “Anyway, I brought you this.” She pushed the box forward, but it only moved by an inch. Silly, w
eak bird arms. Peanut Butter Spike probably could’ve moved it more.
“I like her,” Jason said, ripping into the side and pulling a blue can out.
“How did you find out where we live?” Creed asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Oh. Uuuh, it said it on Jason’s social media pages.” Had it? She couldn’t remember. She’d known they lived here because she flew over it every day, but they didn’t need to know that she was a quiet observer to their lives.
“Dude,” Matt said, leveling Jason with a glare.
“Like you can talk! You were the king of oversharing before you deleted all your pages. Piss off, man. It’s not like I ever thought anyone would be able to actually find the trailer park. We’re out in the wilderness. I assumed GPS would laugh at anyone who tried to get up the back roads in these mountains.”
Creed was glaring at him with a tired, not amused expression.
Jason shrugged. “Fine. I’ll take any mention of our address off my pages.”
Creed swung his attention to Aviana, who was feeling mighty guilty for outing Jason to save herself right about now. “What are you doing here?”
Aviana lifted her chin and tried to hold his gaze, but failed. Fuck it all, just spit it out then. “I’m here to ask you for Easton.”
Jason choked on his beer and spewed it into a fine mist in the air.
“What do you mean, ask for Easton?” Creed asked over the coughing.
She inhaled deeply and said, “I’m here to ask your permission to court Easton.”
“Explain.”
Aviana held onto the side of the waist-high, bricked-in fire pit to steady her wobbly legs and swallowed hard. “I want to date him with the intention of becoming his mate.”
“That’s not how we do things here. Mates are chosen freely.” Creed looked her up and down as his nostrils flared. “You smell like terror. I know Easton. I don’t think you are it for him. He isn’t made for a mate. I’m sorry, but the answer is no.”
“Aw, piss off, Creed,” Willa muttered. She pitched her voice up and yelled, “Beaston!”
“Willa,” Creed warned.
“As Second, I veto your bullshittery. She likes him, she brought us beer, and she won me five fuckin’ dollars.” Willa cocked her head and her eyebrows jacked up. “Winner, winner, werebear dinner.”
“Second, Willa. Second. Not alpha. I’m alpha, and I say she isn’t going to be safe around Easton. I’m all for Easton finding someone, but she’s human, and he’s…well…Beaston.”
“He hasn’t killed Gia yet,” Willa argued, pointing to Creed’s mate.
Creed looked at Gia in disbelief. “I’m not the bad guy in this. I’m trying to save her life.”
“He won’t hurt me,” Aviana murmured. She would ignore the slice under her arm that was just now scabbing over.
“Baby,” Gia said rubbing Creed’s arm. “I know you mean well, but Aviana is asking your permission to court him out of respect. It’s not really up to you.” She nodded to the man limping toward them from the tree line. “It’s up to him.”
Creed scrubbed his hands down his face and muttered, “Fuck.”
As he approached, Easton’s eyes reflected eerily in the glow from the fire in the brick pit—proof that his animal was never far from the surface. His gray shirt clung to his hard physique, and the top two buttons were open, exposing the line between his pec muscles. His legs were long and powerful with every stride he took, and despite the limp, he was graceful. He’d learned that gate with his time in the wilderness, fending for himself. She’d watched the slow change from clumsy boy to graceful animal in the years that broke him.
“Hi,” she whispered past her tightening vocal cords.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, just on the edge of the firelight. Even in his human form, he looked like a wild animal who found safety in the shadows. “You’re here.”
“For a reason,” Willa said.
Easton frowned and ghosted a glance at the red-headed woman, then back to Aviana. “Why?”
Aviana looked to Creed. He was king here, and she was wary of him snapping if she didn’t behave right.
“Go ahead,” the alpha said in a defeated tone, leaning back in his chair and resting his hand on the swell of his mate’s stomach.
“I want to court you.”
Easton shrugged a shoulder up to his ear and shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I want to date you, and if you find you like me well enough…” She swallowed the lump in her throat, but the rest of the words wouldn’t come out. Not with him staring at her so directly like this.
“If I like you well enough…what?”
“Maybe don’t look at me while I tell you.”
“All right,” he said, sounding baffled. He turned around and gave her his back.
She exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Maybe if you like me well enough, you’ll pick me for a mate.”
Easton’s back went rigid. With each silent second that dragged on, the anticipation clogged her throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. She opened her mouth to apologize for intruding and excuse herself, but Easton murmured, “You’re scared of me.”
“I’ll work on not being scared of you.”
“Then okay.”
“Okay?” Her voice came out a hopeful squeak.
“Easton, I forbid you to Turn her,” Creed said, powerful voice sending electric currents into the air.
Easton looked to Willa over his shoulder and shook his head. “I learned my lesson. I won’t Turn Ana.” He spun slowly on his heel and looked at Aviana over the firelight. “I won’t be any good at this.” There was warning in his tone, but his eyes softened. “But we can try. Alpha, I want your blessing.” He turned his inhuman, green gaze on Creed. “Please.”
A muscle twitched in Creed’s clenched jaw. With a sigh, he leveled Aviana with a glare. “Before you answer the question I’m about to ask you, know that we can all hear a lie.”
Steeling herself, Aviana nodded.
“Why do you want to be with Easton?”
That question held the easiest answer in the world. “Because I don’t fit anywhere else.”
Softly, Willa murmured, “She sounds like a Gray Back to me.”
A slow smile spread across Creed’s face in the flickering firelight. “Then a courtship between you and Easton has my blessing.”
A giggle bubbled up her throat, and she sagged heavily against the brick as Easton stood frozen across the fire, looking stunned. Willa stood and reached her first, then hugged her so hard her lungs hurt. Gia and Georgia followed, and the boys smiled and nodded at her as she walked around the fire pit toward Easton—her Easton.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said, promise in his voice.
She stood on her tiptoes and hugged his neck, inhaling the wild scent of his skin. Fur and earth and pine. “I know you won’t. I trust you.”
His hands slipped around her waist slowly, gently, as if he were forcing himself to be careful with her. “When you get to know me, you’ll leave.”
She eased back and smiled up at him, trying her best to hold his feral gaze. She pressed her palm against his chest. Her hand rattled with the soft vibration of his pounding heart. “I already know you.”
Confusion rippled over his face like a wave, there and gone in a moment. “Do you want to see my den?”
“I want to see your den,” Jason piped up.
“No,” Easton gritted out.
“How do you like that?” he asked Georgia. “I’m his best friend, and he still won’t let me see the inside of his trailer.”
“Nobody’s seen it,” Matt said. “Hey!” he called as Aviana and Easton walked toward the tree line. “I’ll give you five bucks to tell us what it looks like inside.”
Aviana shook her head and ignored the banter that kicked up near the fire pit. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to.”
E
aston didn’t say anything back, only slipped his big, strong, calloused hand around hers and squeezed gently. That was a reward in itself, so she bumped his shoulder and snuggled her cheek against his taut arm. A sign of devotion from a raven, but he didn’t need to know about her animal side. Not yet. Not until she figured out a way to break it to him gently. Easton refusing to share his home with his crew was proof he was a keeper of secrets. Her instincts said he would be upset if he knew she’d witnessed the years that had shattered him. No, before she exposed her hidden feathered self, she had to make sure he wouldn’t run away from what they could be.
By the time they’d walked up the trail to his singlewide—the one with the chipped white siding and stacks of firewood down one whole side—she wasn’t shaking so badly anymore. She did, however, feel as if she’d been dumped into a surreal moment that could very well be a dream. She was here, with him. With the one she’d thought so much about and forsaken her people for. With the one who’d kept her trinkets after all these years.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he pushed his door open, though she couldn’t tell what he was apologizing for.
She stepped up the stairs and into his den as he flipped the light switch on. The smell of pine sap hit her senses first as she took in the small space of the living room. There was only one lamp in the corner, and he’d thrown a square of orange fabric over it to mute the light. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with tree bark. She gasped as it hit her why this place felt so familiar. She spun and stuck her head back out the front door, but she already knew what she would find. A workshop built at a similar distance from the tree Easton had built a house in when he was a cub. This place was his version of the home he’d lived in all those years ago. He’d recreated the place he felt the safest.
A wash of mixed emotions filled her. Sadness that those years had etched their way so deeply into his adult life. Disappointment that he was still holding onto the past. Pride that he’d survived at all. Tears blurred her vision as she smiled up at him. He was waiting, dark eyebrows furrowed with worry.
“I love it,” she whispered thickly.