The Wildflower Series

by Rachelle Mills

  The day finally came where I was invited to sit with them as if I always was a part of their pack.

  They remind me of wildflowers, mismatched, unassuming, yet put together they’re a beautiful bouquet. They are of the hardy variety, all transplants from different areas. These wolves are the runts, omegas, lesser wolves of the packs they’ve come from. Somehow they found a place here with Belac, and underneath her rule they’ve flourished. The once-beaten and neglected have grown into highly skilled prized winning wolves. Any pack would be proud to have them.

  Belac has a way of turning the defeated into the undefeated.

  This is how new packs are formed. Little by little, wolves gather, becoming a bigger and bigger group.

  Stepping inside the diner, an easiness is in the air without any more forced smiles greeting me. This is no hipster heaven; this is grease and coffee-stained tables with banter and teasing. Foul-mouthed beasts with quick-witted tongues. Highly intelligent minds, but lacking the bodies to match, that’s why they all carry silver.

  I take my spot at the table. They’ve welcomed me without judgment. All have stated sorry for my loss; all my response is to say thank you.

  Belac sits in her usual spot, facing the door so she can see everyone entering her little gathering. Her long braids are piled in a top knot bun that makes her look delicate in her own fierce way. She carries her own silver, but she doesn’t need to bluff with it. She has sharp teeth that I’m sure have been used several times. Treajure is tucked into her side.

  The wolf never speaks, doe eyes looking around. Belac found her at a dump six months ago in Wild form, scrawny, unhealthy. Not one word she utters, Belac even had to name her.

  “So let’s see it.” She holds out her hand for me to give them the first picture of my male. The grainy picture has him curled up inside me, nice and snug where he belongs for now. All of the wolves pass the picture around. You can see his tiny little head, nose, lips, fat belly. Small arms and legs that he was constantly kicking for the camera as if showing off his strength as males do.

  “He’s beautiful. You can tell he comes from good genes,” Belac states, certainty in her voice. A mother’s smile spreads on my face being told how strong their pup is.

  Already I’m proud of the little pup.

  “So how did you like the midwife?”

  “I liked her, but she’s really old.” The midwife had laugh lines dug deep into her eyes; she’s a wolf who has laughed often and smiled more. It’s a face I hope to carry when I’m as old as her. The only thing that creeped me out about her is she’s very superstitious, lots of small charms all over her birthing rooms, some of those things look dark, almost evil to me. It was hard to suppress the uneasy feeling that came from some of those rooms. She was surprised that I didn’t miscarry. She assumes my mate died. With the death of a mate, it’s hard to keep what’s inside you from spilling out, especially so early on in the pregnancy. She said that he is going to be a big male to birth. That gives me just a little shiver of fear for what I’m going to have to go through my first time.

  “My brother’s been looking for a new one but hasn’t come across anyone yet.” I could be what they need, but I choose to keep my mouth shut. I’m not committing to anything here yet. No long-term plans. This will be my den for a few months after the birth, then I’ll tell Dallas.

  The longer I put it off, the worse it’s getting for me.

  “What are you doing today, Rya?” Belac’s sultry voice caresses my skin. If I were to play for that team, she would be my queen.

  “I’m putting together the crib; I need to get everything set up and ready.” I feel as if I don’t have a lot of time anymore. His arrival will be within the next few weeks, and I have nothing prepared yet. My instincts are driving me hard to get my home ready for the pup’s arrival.

  “I can come over and help you. Nothing going on today.” She’s trying to take more food off the others’ plates, but they hold their forks like spears, ready to puncture skin if necessary. All these females are sitting here starting their heat; they smell mango sweet, ripening with each passing day. Belac’s lips look like blood wine that are full with her approaching heat.

  “I’d appreciate that.” For someone who didn’t want to socialize with me and says she keeps to herself, I can’t get her out of my space. Constantly over, bringing all her strays with her. She is someone I can count on. It’s ingrained into the fiber of who she is, no matter what she thinks of herself.

  Second best.

  “You want a ride home?” the only male at the table asks. He’s deliciously sexy in an understated way. He doesn’t have to try, and I know why Belac has chosen him to ride out her heat. He’s not full of himself; he’s a quiet cool. Not saying much, but when he does, it’s of substance and you can’t help lean your ear into his words so you catch everything he says.

  “No, but thank you for the offer.”

  Belac leans in close, her top slightly dipping down, giving this male a peek at what’s underneath the material. “Can you drive me home?” The slyness of her smile has the male wolf almost dropping his keys. She owns her rhythm, the natural way she moves to a music that only she hears, and we have no choice but to follow.

  This female holds this piece of territory like she’s an Alpha. It’s just six wolves in this pack. But it’s their pack, and they make it work somehow. If I chose to stay, their numbers would increase by two.

  “How about you all come over tonight? I’ll cook and I’ll have drinks. You just bring yourselves and anyone else you want. Belac, you can put together the crib for me. We can have a crib-building party.” I can’t help the anxiousness I feel inviting wolves over for my first real party.

  “I’m in!” Belac is the first to respond as the others follow.

  “Come over around six. Don’t bring a thing. I’ll take care of it all.” After finishing our meal, I walk with a bigger bounce, probably jostling the pup inside me.

  My body’s deep with the pregnancy sway, hips side to side, back arched slightly with the redistribution of weight.

  I’m starting to waddle now.

  My eyes feel as if cement is gluing them shut. I need to take the contacts out when I get home. They are becoming an enormous burden to wear.

  Stopping at the butcher before going home, I buy a feast fit for wolves who are becoming my true friends. I feel as if I can be part of them.

  The Wildflower Gang.

  Maybe I could stay here; maybe this might be a place for me…maybe.

  Choices that I need to think hard over.

  The first guests start arriving with presents. Big gifts wrapped in bright colors for me.

  “What’s going on?” I’m slightly confused.

  “We decided to bring some gifts for the pup. Things we think you’ll need.” I can’t hide my emotions as the tears come to my eyes.

  Happy, joyful tears.

  A hand goes to my shoulder. It’s Belac squeezing it before taking a seat on the couch, looking over the directions I left her for the crib she’s going to put together.

  She shoots the paper the middle finger as if it can understand what she’s meaning.

  “It says ten easy steps. I call bull crap!” Her voice rises toward the white pages of clearly written directions. Treajure takes the instructions from her, her eyes skimming over words before she gets up and proceeds to start on the project herself with a confidence she rarely shows.

  The male wolf enters my home, slowly on guard, looking around. His soft blond curls fall into his eyes. He has long hair that goes past his ears, making him look as if he’s a carefree surfer. Belac’s scent is all over him. She’s washed, only a lingering trace of this male on her skin remaining.

  As the rest of the group comes in, I put the presents to the side to open up later. I want to feed my group of friends with everything I have to offer them.

  Some of the talented wolves have brought instruments with them. The music gets louder as the wolves around my table
start to sway after the alcohol makes them more relaxed.

  They’re riding those waves that liquor can bring. Belac is up, swaying her hips to the beat of the tambourine. Everyone is enraptured by this creature.

  She’s velveteen, hard as a male on the outside, soft and feminine on the inside.

  When the music switches beat, her hips shake and move as if they have their own brain. I try to copy her, and everyone starts to laugh at the pregnant she-wolf moving her bum that way.

  Laughing at myself, it’s when I feel it.

  Eyes on me.

  I can never forget that feeling those eyes give me. The pup inside me can feel his gaze the way he squirms and wiggles in great trembling motions.

  “Rya, is something wrong?” I drop my water, spilling it on the floor.

  I look out the sliding glass door. Dallas is on the ground, crawling toward the door, his face contorted in anguished distress. He tries to stand, tears spilling over in steady streams that he doesn’t wipe away. The music stops abruptly. He’s struggling with his breath while a warm feeling descends on my belly.

  His eyes hit where my words should have spoken.

  The wolves at the table stand just as the glass door implodes, sending flying missiles our way. A giant wolf making a grand entrance, it’s the wolf that follows him in that has everyone reaching for knives to kill this monster of nightmares.

  It plays out slow motion.

  With the glass still raining down on us, the Silverback goes for his son’s throat, bringing him down at Belac’s feet, but not before knives are thrown, trying to stop the charging of the first wolf. The Silverback takes the knives willingly that were supposed to be for his son.

  The great wolf took down by the weakest.

  Blood. The metallic taste starts to swirl in the air.

  Caleb shifts as the Silverback pulls in labored breaths. He holds his father’s head in his hands, rocking back and forth. Dallas comes in looking at me, looking at his father laying on the floor.

  “Don’t touch him,” he says calmly in the chaos. Dallas is on his knees assessing the situation calmly, except hands used to handling deadly situations have a fine tremble in his fingers as he touches where each knife has struck. A bubble of blood starts coming out the wolf’s nose. A lung has been punctured.

  “Where’s the nearest facility? We need to get him there now.” Caleb doesn’t look anywhere but to his father now. His legs are red with blood that just keeps flowing out with an unstoppable force. Dallas takes his shirt off, ripping it into rags, placing it around the knives that he’s not taking out, trying desperately to stop the flow of blood with hand-held pressure.

  “Hold this,” his commanding voice rings out to the nearest wolf that quickly obeys him.

  Belac is giving me the eye to explain myself, but I don’t have it in me to say anything.

  “This is my pup’s father.” Dallas’s eyes quickly shift my way before being consumed once again by his father’s need.

  “Pick him up gently.” All the wolves follow his direction, including Belac.

  It’s quick progress as everyone helps out to carry his great weight, putting him into the back seat. Belac drives the vehicle while Dallas takes the back, along with Caleb, holding pressure as best they can.

  It’s a fast drive, racing against the clock. He doesn’t have much time.

  “Caleb, when we get there, call Mom. Tell her she has to come. Tell her to bring our brothers—all of them.” I don’t like the little panic that’s creeping into his words.

  Caleb is throwing on some clothes from a bag in the backseat. Through tears, Caleb tells his father that he loves him, that he couldn’t help himself. Belac is cringing into herself.

  They’re waiting there at the open door for us. A stretcher is already outside. Dallas is the first to get out, screaming orders that take the doctor by surprise. It takes all of us to pick him up. His eyes aren’t as sharp anymore.

  Before going inside with his father, Dallas’s hand tries to touch my stomach. I angle away. His eyes meet mine with so many emotions that it staggers me backward. How could I have kept this from him? This is all my fault if his father dies.

  “I might be a while, Rya. Please go back to your place, rest. When I’m done here, we’ll talk about this calmly.” He tries to hug me, but I step out of his grasp, which doesn’t seem to surprise him.

  He’s taking in my whole appearance. “You’ve changed so much, it’s like I’m looking at a different wolf.” Turning, he walks inside, leaving me outside in the darkness.

  Caleb is a mess coming outside. His face is crumpled in self-persecution.

  “I shouldn’t have done that, Rya. I just couldn’t help myself. I just smelled her and lost my reason. He knew what he was doing. He took all those knives for me.” Caleb starts crying on my shoulder while Belac is watching from a distance, not approaching. I rub his back for him.

  “It’s my fault, Caleb. If I would have just told Dallas in the first place, this would have never happened.” Now both of us are messes of snot and tears while we hold each other for comfort. Except the belly is in the way of a full hug.

  He places a hand on my stomach. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I was afraid. The more time I let it go on, the harder it was to say something. Then, when you said that he was back for two weeks, he never called me. He moved on with his life, and I would just be a burden to him.”

  “What are you talking about, Rya?”

  He stands away from me. “He couldn’t call you. He was collared to the pole. Didn’t you get the picture I sent you?”

  “What picture?” He pulls out his phone, scrolling through messages until he finds mine.

  “This. Look.” He shows me a picture of Dallas’s wolf looking embarrassed, tied to a pole, wearing a collar.

  I read our message. It dawns on me that I threw my phone into the ocean before I received the picture. If I didn’t act with such emotion, this might have been avoided.

  “We kept calling and calling you. He called you as soon as he was released, but you never answered any of us.” He sounds hurt.

  “I thought Dallas never wanted to talk to me again when you told me he has been home for two weeks, so I threw my phone away. I never got your picture of him. I thought that since he didn’t want me anymore, I should break up with his family too.”

  He’s looking guilty too. “I shouldn’t have worded it that way,” he says as he scrolls the message again. “This doesn’t read well, does it? I can see how you got upset.” His head turns toward Belac.

  For a wolf who has something to say all the time, he can’t form words. It’s as if he’s tongue-tied, nothing intelligible coming out. He looks foolish in a way.

  She doesn’t look impressed by her mate as she walks away.

  His eyes never leave her hips, the sway is hypnotic to any wolf, but his brain must be entranced by his mate.

  “Dallas wants me to bring you to your place. I need to come back here after I drop you off. We need to do what the good doctor says.” He tries making a joke, but I don’t laugh.

  “You stay. It’s not a long walk, and I need the air.” He gives me a side eye.

  “I’ll be fine. Stay with your father. Keep your family updated.” Turning from him, I begin the slow walk back, stopping every ten minutes for little breaks, because of the dull pain that’s spreading in my lower back from the exertion of walking. The day’s been too long.

  Taking my contacts out, I wash my face. I get a blanket and pillow, wrapping myself up on a chair waiting for him to come. I don’t want to go back inside. The stench of blood is making me gag. It looks like a bomb went off inside the house with mass casualties. Bloody footprints stain the wooden deck.

  Opening my eyes, I see him approach me like the great tides of the ocean. He flows toward me, unstoppable in his path. It feels as if nature has gone silent. It’s an uncomfortable stillness. The ocean waves have ceased rolling on the shore as the moon stops
breathing, wanting to listen to every word.

  “Rya.” Kneeling in front of me, his hands go to my outer thighs, his forehead touching my knee. He postures in front of me a moment before he lifts his head, his glacier eyes regarding me.

  He just looks at me, defeated, while his hands go underneath the blanket, then underneath my shirt. He’s feeling his male, skin on skin. The little one inside me is going insane. It’s almost borderline painful with the full strength of him showing off for his father.

  I can tell Dallas is taking in the positioning of him, the way his hand goes around every curve of his young. He feels his head, shoulders, bum. He pushes back on feet that poke at his hand. He places his nose against my bare skin, kissing my belly. He pulls great lungfuls of scent through his nose, imprinting his smell.

  He places his ear against the skin, eyes closed and listening. We sit like this calmly without words to muddle the moment.

  My hand goes into his hair that he’s letting grow out again.

  “I’m sorry, Rya.”

  “So am I, Dallas.”

  He cries into my stomach, tears dripping down, soaking into the waistband of my skirt. His arms wrap around my lower back, just holding me close.

  Chapter 21

  What’s Really Important

  Trepidation creeps inside me on tiptoe.

  “Your father?” Barely a whisper comes out of my mouth.

  “Alive.” The sound is muffled; his lips are pressed against the exposed skin of my abdomen. The male inside me finally quiets down, exhausting himself to sleep with all the showing off he was doing for his father.

  Exhaling the breath I was holding in, I give silent thanks to the moon for her mercy.

  “I’m so sorry that this happened to him. I feel that this is my fault. If I just would have told you in the first place…” Guilt threatens to restrict my vocal cords with each word I say. I love that Silverback Alpha; he’s a good wolf. One of the few males I have ever met that I completely trust.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Rya. He made a choice. He knew what he was doing when he took those knives that female was throwing my brother’s way. I’ll have to go back in a little while to check on him. We need to talk first.” He’s looking at me, glacier blue eyes that bind me to him, his hands never leaving his male.