by Cari Z
Only, of course, it wasn’t good. It took me too long to realize how far my influence as alpha extended and that even though the person who’d let Wilson go was dead, I was expected to step into her shoes. Wilson was my responsibility. I had to check up on him, I had to make sure he didn’t make a nuisance of himself, make sure he didn’t cause problems for the people out on the plains.
I actually liked Wilson way better as a wolf. We only met half a dozen times over the years, but it was enough to reinforce our respective positions, enough to give me confidence in him. I hadn’t expected him to lose it and start hunting people’s pets. It wasn’t that bad a winter. He could have come to us. He could have….
It didn’t matter. He hadn’t. And now he was dead, and I felt locked halfway between wolf and man, indomitable alpha and entirely fallible leader. Not elected, just set in place on the back of a tragedy. It wouldn’t be that hard to get rid of me. I couldn’t give them the chance. I must not give them the chance, but I couldn’t make myself change back either. It felt like I’d forgotten how.
Wilson was cooling, almost equal to the ambient temperature in the car now. It felt wrong, and I held him closer even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. One of my claws punctured the tarp, but no blood spilled out. We’d left most of his blood in the snow. A quick slice to the jugular, the same spot that killed a wolf just as fast as a man, and he’d gone in under two minutes. He hadn’t understood what was going on, or why. I had asked for his obedience, he’d given it, and then….
I’d killed him.
Murdered a member of my own pack, no matter how removed.
I didn’t realize when the car stopped. I was so absorbed in my own hell. It took Ward steeling himself—I could actually hear his teeth grind together—and touching my knee that pulled me out of my fugue.
“C’mon, Henry,” he said. “Time to get out.”
Out. Where Sam was, where pack was. Pack. This wouldn’t be fun. I knew it, but there was nothing I could do. I unbent my legs and made my way out of the Jeep, instead of tearing the soft top to pieces with my claws the way I was half inclined to. I emerged, and the sounds that greeted me were myriad: a dozen or so heartbeats, all the adults but almost none of the children. Sam had known what was coming and taken care of that, I assumed. Roman was here, and Genna—I smelled the new sourness of John’s dislike, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. Sam and Liam were at the front of the group, Gerald and Peggy not far back. Everyone but the humans could smell the death.
No one said anything, but Tennyson carefully, slowly came forward. He had his head slanted to the side, but his eyes were on me. “I’ve got a place all ready for him,” he said, and I believed him. I could smell the frozen earth on his clothes and the deeper, softer stuff underneath his nails. “Let me take him, Alpha.”
Yes. Now was the time for me to give him up, only I wasn’t sure I could. Tennyson took another step, and I growled, unwillingly, hoarse in my chest and painful across my lips. I was the alpha, my work was done, it was time to delegate, but I couldn’t… I just couldn’t make myself let go of him.
“Henry,” Sam said. She started to step forward, but Liam grabbed her arm and held her back. What, because he thought I was too wild to be safe around my own sister? He thought I would hurt her? I felt my eyes change, and I knew it was too much, I knew it wasn’t necessary, but I let them go anyway. I felt the muscles in my back and shoulders bunch, broadening, making me look wider, giving me a bit of a stoop. I heard John swear, saw him head for his daughter even as he pulled his gun and held it on me.
“Henry, please,” Sam said again, pulling against Liam’s grip, but it was no use. He was afraid of me, and he was afraid for his wife. He wouldn’t let her near me, and she wouldn’t fight him hard enough to get away. Was she afraid of me too? Or just trying to keep the peace again, keep up the balance between me and her husband?
She should have left. He should have taken her away from me, from this pack. Being here was only prolonging her misery.
The touch was so soft I barely felt it, but I knew the tenor of the rabbiting heartbeat beside me, the scent of his fear and determination. Ward was here, human and vulnerable, and he was touching me. I forced my head to turn on my too-thick neck, my face probably as hideous as it always should be, and looked down at Ward. He swallowed thickly, but looked right back up at me.
“It’s okay,” he said, and it sounded like a promise. “You did what you had to. You can let Tennyson have him now.”
I… no. Yes? I didn’t want to let go, but I knew I needed to, and having Ward there to reinforce that seemed to make it okay. I sighed, then held my burden out to Tennyson, who hadn’t moved since my growl. He eased in close enough to relieve me of Wilson’s body, and as soon as that was gone, I felt like I might blow away in the frigid wind. Ward kept his hand on me, though, grounding me with slender fingers and gentle pressure and the telltale sound of his tight, wheezing breaths. It shouldn’t have soothed me so.
Tennyson turned and left. I could hear John berating his daughter, asking her why she’d come into the compound—the scent of desire had faded in both her and Roman, leaving wariness and fear. I ignored the guardian as I looked out on my pack, assessing them. They assessed me right back, and I could see that some of them found me wanting.
“Change back,” Gerald said abruptly.
“Stop it,” Peggy muttered, grabbing him by the sleeve, but her husband shook off her grip and stepped forward.
“Change the rest of the way. Change back now, Alpha!”
I tried. I actually did try. I couldn’t. My body didn’t want to, it’s defenses too high and hard. I glared at Gerald, who smelled satisfied even though he looked unnerved.
“You’re losing your shift.”
Sam whirled on him. “Shut up! After everything that’s happened to him, everything he’s gone through not just today but for months before, a little trouble is only to be expected! You have difficulty with your shift when you’re bothered by something as mundane as a hot day. I’ve seen it, so back off and show your alpha some respect before I make you show it!” She had one hand on the Taser at her belt.
“He shouldn’t need you to protect him, Sam!”
“He shouldn’t need to be protected from his own pack at all, Gerald,” she shot back. “And I’m his sister first, and the coleader of this pack second. I will always protect my brother.” She turned to me—no, to Ward. “Escort Henry to the house. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Sure thing.” He took my hand—God, he took my clawed hand, my hideous hand—and tugged me in the direction of our house. After a moment, I went with him.
By the time we got back to the house, I was stumbling in the snow, my semishifted feet clumsy in the boots. I was tired, and upset, and everything felt like too much. Ward pulled me toward the staircase, but I resisted.
“Down,” I ground out between my fangs. “Panic room.” It hadn’t been used for decades, probably smelled like dust and decay now and nothing more. It was where I should be, until I came out of it.
Ward seemed to disagree.
“No. You need a shower.”
I shook my head. “Not now.”
“Yes, now. You look like you’ve been rolling around in a butcher shop, so God only knows how bad you smell to yourself. You need a hot shower, with soap. Lots of soap,” he continued, still tugging me upstairs. It would have been nothing to resist him, but I didn’t. “We’ll go through a whole bottle of shampoo if you don’t get rid of some of the extra hair. Not that I care.”
Extra hair… ah. More than my muscles had shifted out there. We made it to the end of the hall, right in front of the bathroom, and Ward looked back at me and swore. Actually, he was looking at the ground.
“We’re making a mess. Remind me to mop it up later. First—” He tugged his scarf off with one hand, dropped his hat to the floor with it, and started in on his jacket. “I’ve got to get this coat off before I overheat. If it’s bad out here, it’ll be hell once we
get the shower going.” He waved one hand at me as he got started on his shoelaces. I just watched him, oddly comforted by his chatter as it washed over me, no expectation of conversation in it.
“Hang on.” He switched his grip on me so he could get both arms of the coat off without actually having to let me go. He was being careful, but not in a way that got my hackles up, and I felt myself relax into his presence almost without permission.
“Hey, nice job.”
What? Oh—I was shifting back. Partially, at least. My hands and face hadn’t changed, but at least now I could step out of my own semidestroyed boots without having to get Ward to untie the laces, and my shirt wasn’t strained to the breaking point.
“You look better,” he said approvingly. “Come on.” He led me into the bathroom and shut the door behind us, then turned on the hot water. “You need to undress. Can you manage it, or should I….” There was no desire in his voice or scent now, but no fear either, and that too was comforting. “You know what, I’ll just… okay.” He took a deep breath, then got started on my shirt.
I couldn’t remember the last person to undress me who wasn’t doing it to bandage a wound. Maybe college. I’d had a boyfriend in college, another artist, a metalworker who braved flame and heat like it was nothing. He’d been skinny like Ward, and just as fearless, but he also held a grudge. When I told him I had to leave and couldn’t explain well enough to suit him, he told me not to bother coming back to him. I didn’t, but I did remember the way his hands felt on my body, callused fingers moving appreciatively against my skin.
Ward’s hands were nothing like that. He had no calluses, and his fingers were thin and knobby. They were dexterous with my buttons, though, careful even though this shirt would have to be burned. Burned… shit. I lifted a hand and set it on Ward’s, carefully.
“The blood….” Transmission via blood was actually a fairly difficult way to contract the virus. It lived primarily in our salivary glands, which made biting so effective. But still….
“I know,” he said. “Sam explained it all. I don’t have any open wounds, and you don’t have blood on the front of your shirt, Henry, just the sleeves. I’ll let you take care of those, just let me handle the rest of it. Okay?”
Good enough for me. Between the two of us, we got my clothes off, until I was bare and shaking in the yellow light of the bathroom, which was filling with steam.
“Inside,” Ward said, and he pushed at me gently until I took the hint and stepped into the claw-foot tub where the shower was spraying. The water was hot enough that it made me wince, but Ward adjusted it, and a moment later, all I wanted to do was lie down and give myself over to its heat. So I did.
“Henry!” The thump must have alarmed him, because he threw the shower curtain open and stared at me for a long moment before exhaling heavily. “Shit. Are you okay?”
“Tired.” Just tired, of everything. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I thought my eyes might be tearing up, but it didn’t matter in there, with the water beating me beautifully. No one would be able to tell.
“That’s okay, that’s fine. Just… sit down carefully the next time you get tired, okay?” He smiled a little weakly. “How would I explain to Sam if you cracked your head open in the tub?”
“Sam.” Poor Sam. Fuck, I’d really done a number on her life.
“Yeah, Sam. She’s fierce, man.” Ward sounded appreciative. “You’re lucky to have a sister like that.” He stopped speaking for a moment, hunting for something under the sink, and I missed the sound of his voice immediately.
“Talk.”
Ward came back around the curtain and raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I could probably talk your ears off, Henry.”
Sounded good to me. “Please.”
“Okay, well… I never had a sister, but I did have a brother. Rick. Sam reminds me a little of him, actually. He was a Marine, and then he did officer training school and ended up going into military intelligence. Him and his friend Davis. Davis is the only reason I can even say I had a friend growing up, because Rick shared him with me.”
He kept up a patter as he washed my hair, telling me about his hero-worship for the older brother who looked out for him when his parents were too busy to, how he had wondered how someone like that could die when Ward, who felt like so much less, survived pneumonia and asthma and countless infections to make it to adulthood. He told me about Gabriela, who had never wanted to be a mother, and how as soon as he’d lain eyes on Ava he knew he wanted her more than anything. He told me about his daughter and how precious she was to him. The last part I already knew, but it was calming to hear again. Ward was steadfast. When he gave a part of his heart to someone, he gave it forever.
Eventually the hot water ran out, and Ward managed to wrangle me out of the shower and into a pair of sweats before I could start shivering. He led me toward my bedroom, but I balked at the thought of entering a cold room that smelled of nothing but me right now. Surrounding myself with my own scent would be like wrapping myself in misery, and I was already miserable enough.
“Okay.” Ward didn’t even hesitate, just took me down the hall to his room instead. The air was still just a little musty around the edges, old space slowly filling with new life, but mostly it just smelled like Ward. Even the medicinal tinge was soothing in its own way, a source of care. Ward pulled back the blankets and led me into the bed, and I went because there was nothing else I would rather do in that moment.
God, I was tired. I was so tired.
“Sleep.” Ward brushed his fingers across the curve of my shoulder, a grounding touch before covering me up with the comforter. “It’ll be okay.”
“Stay.” It was all I wanted.
He smiled for me. He looked so different when he smiled, the thinness of his face eclipsed by the width of his grin. “I can do that.”
Thank you. I wasn’t sure whether I said it or not before I fell asleep.
It didn’t matter. I knew Ward would feel it.
Chapter Fifteen
Ward
SOMETIMES, ESPECIALLY when she was stressed out, Ava had nightmares. She’d had one the night before her first day at school, in fact, and had come running into my bedroom at two in the morning, crying that something was chasing her and she couldn’t get away. I had soothed her as best I could, not realizing how weirdly prophetic her dream had been at the time, and let her spend the rest of the night next to me, even though I’d gotten next to no sleep thanks to my squirmy kid.
It had been a while since I’d been called on to do nightmare duty, but I knew what was expected of me. The most important thing? To be there. And I was determined to do that for Henry now, even if the dynamic was a little different. The bed should have been a little small for two full-grown men, but I wasn’t the biggest guy, and Henry was curled in on himself like a pill bug right now, so we made it work. I got to be the big spoon, which was really novel, and made it easier to stroke a hand down his side whenever he shuddered or whined in his sleep.
At least he looked human again. He’d been mostly human by the time I pulled him out of the shower, just his hazy eyes still showing a faint yellow tint. His face had been completely human and totally devastated. I’d seen that look before in soldiers, in Davis, when he came to my door to tell me in person that Rick wasn’t coming home. It was the look of a person on the edge, who didn’t know how to step back and take a breath. Davis had had me, at least, and I’d had him to share the grief with. Who did Henry have? His squad? His commanding officer? Sam? There were advantages to each, but problems too.
By the time I smelled coffee wafting up the stairwell, Henry had gone from restless, shallow sleep into something so deep he didn’t even move when I slid out of bed. I didn’t want to leave him, but I hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, and I was hungry. I decided I could take a moment to run downstairs and eat before heading back to see if he was ready to get up.
“I’ll be back,” I murmured, patting his blanket-covered side be
fore heading downstairs. Coffee, some toast, maybe an egg if I could be quick about it—
I was greeted by the sight of a veritable breakfast feast. Plates full of sausage, bacon, pancakes, waffles, cut fruit, and scrambled eggs sat along the counter, wrapped to keep them warm. The scent of coffee was strong, and the kitchen was a few degrees warmer than the rest of the house. Sam sat at the table, sipping from a mug, while Liam worked at the stove flipping more pancakes.
“Ward!” Her face lit up when she saw me. “There you are! I was wondering if I’d have to pry you two out of your room.”
Oh boy, she knew Henry and I had slept together. Well, for a given value of sleeping together. I’m sure if she knew that much, she was also aware that nothing had happened other than some comfort.
“Yeah, I just came down to grab something to eat before I head back up to wake him.”
“Why don’t we let him sleep a little longer? Sit, let me get you a plate.”
“I have it,” Liam said quietly. He passed a full plate over that was stacked with my favorite things. Even the syrup had been spiked with raspberries, or more likely raspberry jam, considering the time of year.
“Thanks.”
Liam looked a little hunted as he nodded. “Of course.”
Sam redirected my attention with a light touch to my wrist. “How is he?”
I shrugged before tucking in. “He was pretty rough last night, but I think he’s coming out of it okay.”
“You stayed with him the whole time?”
“Except for right now, yes.” A tendril of unease slithered into my thoughts. “Why, is that not good? Should I have left him alone?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Sam said. “I’m just surprised he didn’t insist on going down to the panic room.”
“Oh, he tried that. I told him no.”
Liam looked at me with wide eyes. “You told him….”
“No. Yeah.”
“And he let you?”
“He was upset, but that doesn’t mean he was unreasonable,” I said. Sam and Liam shared a look, and then Liam bowed his head over the griddle again.