by T. S. Joyce
Near the wall, Roman had his hand on Asher’s shoulder, and they both looked bewildered. Eyes too bright though, silver and gold. They weren’t howling either.
Her body buckled, and the howl rose again. Her howl.
And then there was the sound of gunfire. And then there was pain.
Blaire fell off the table, or more like…she didn’t fit on the table anymore. Not as she had. The clatter of bowls and the shattering of glass was deafening. She could hear everything as she scrambled against the floor, trying to ease the hurt that rippled through her body and blazed down every nerve ending.
Odine was still chanting, louder now, words that made no sense and all ran together.
“What’s happening to her?” Roman asked. Too loud, too loud. His voice bounced around her skull, splitting it.
Words were impossible now, but suddenly, the pain stopped. It just disappeared like fog in the sunshine. She couldn’t move. She was frozen, and her body didn’t make sense. Nothing felt like it was where it was supposed to be. Something moved behind her, and she yelped a strange noise and scrambled away from it. More movement, and she went mad, clawing her way in a clumsy circle to defend herself. Roman had his cell phone up taking pictures, and Gentry was trying to calm her, hands out as he approached.
Don’t! She snapped her teeth at him, and he winced away. Asher wore a dark smile as he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Odine wasn’t chanting anymore. She sagged heavily into a chair as if she were utterly exhausted. She looked like she’d aged a decade, and there was more gray in her hair now. “Let her out before she finds her legs and destroys my house.” Her voice cracked with age. “And for God sakes, boys, don’t let her kill anyone.”
“I thought werewolves didn’t come in white,” Roman said as Gentry threw the door to the cabin open.
Werewolf? White? Baffled, Blaire looked down at the floor, and to her horror, there were two snow-white wolf legs with black claws that had raked deep scratches into the wooden floorboards under her.
There was movement behind her again, scaring her into scrabbling forward.
“Look it,” Roman crowed. “She’s afraid of her own tail.”
“Shut the fuck up, man,” Gentry said, shoving his brother into the wall. “She doesn’t know what’s happening.”
“I thought she would look like a zombie or something,” Asher murmured. “Red eyes maybe.”
Odine snorted tiredly. “Do you look like a zombie wolf? Do you have red eyes? I made you three the same way. Now get out. I need rest.”
Asher and Roman strode out the door, but Gentry knelt in front of Blaire. He looked so striking with the soft winter light filtering through the open door behind him. He didn’t try to touch her with his hands, but his eyes felt like they were caressing her. So green. She could see little gold flecks in them, could see each movement of his pupil as he focused on her. He looked so relieved. No, he felt relieved. She could sense it through some invisible link that hung in the air between them.
Mine.
A slow smile stretched behind Gentry’s beard. And in a reverent whisper, he said, “You’re so beautiful, Trouble.”
She wanted to smile, but didn’t know how in this body. Excitement built up in her body as she realized what was happening.
It had worked. Whatever Odine had done had worked.
She was alive, and because of that, Gentry—her Gentry—was alive.
He felt bigger in this body. Dominant. Intimidating even though his eyes were soft. She needed to touch him, though, so she gave into her new instincts and pushed herself forward on her belly, then rolled over on her side when she reached him, nudging her nose under his hand.
He chuckled and ran his fingertips up her muzzle. Felt so freaking good. A needy whine left her lips, and there was more movement behind her. Wagging tail, nothing to be afraid of this time.
“You want to run?” he asked through a wicked grin. He looked completely exhausted, and she should let him rest, but the excitement in her body was still there, so yes! She needed to run. That was a great suggestion. Her mate was a genius.
She tried to work her body, and shocker, she was clumsy as hell, but she got the hang of it a little by the time she reached the open door. Gentry strode behind her, pulling off his shirt. Sexy mate. Blaire fell all the way down the stairs with a yelp. Gentry laughed.
On the edge of the woods were two wolves—one black as tar with white eyes, and one gray and brown with eyes the color of melted gold. Pack. Strikers. She was one of them now. They thought they were going to leave Gentry, leave her, but she wouldn’t let them. She was going to make them jump the right side of the fence.
Bouncing unsteadily, she aimed for them. Roman huffed a sneeze that sounded suspiciously like a wolf laugh. Jerk. Asher blinked slowly and made her walk all the way to him, lowering herself like she’d done with Gentry because the Strikers felt scary. She was basically camouflaged into the snow with just her ears poking out when Asher finally sniffed her once and then trotted away, apparently bored. Jerk number two. She liked them.
A blur of gray blasted past her, then Gentry skidded to a stop and circled back, running so fast it shocked her to stillness. And right when she thought he would plow into her, he leapt into the air and sailed right over her with a grace that stole her breath away. Behind her, he was down on his front end, his butt up in the air, his tail wagging slowly, his tongue out.
Play with me.
She liked playing! Blaire took off, concentrating on her feet until she got the hang of running. And then Gentry was right there running beside her, racing her. On either side of them, Asher and Roman ran through the woods, eyes drifting to Blaire time and time again.
Mine, all mine, my Gentry, my life, my boys, my Strikers, my pack, my snow, my woods, my wolf. She wanted to scream and laugh and cry and then start all over again. Blaire felt insane with how powerful and fast this body was. The pads of her feet barely made any sound as she sprinted through the snow, around trees and brush, weaving in and out with the other wolves now.
Everything was going to be okay.
Emotion overwhelmed her. She locked her long legs and skidded to a stop in a clearing. Gentry reached her first, worry pooling in his glowing green eyes. He clamped his teeth on her neck when she ducked to the ground for him, but it didn’t hurt. Love bite. He sniffed her fur as she lay there, then flopped over on top of her, rubbing his back on her like he had an itch. Felt good. He was so warm. Happiness trilled through the bond, and now the emotion that had stopped her swelled. She wanted to cry but didn’t have the luxury of that outlet in this body. She couldn’t absorb this all-consuming feeling in her body, so she closed her eyes and sang. It was a short howl, unpracticed. But Gentry stood in a rush right above her, tossed his head back, and cried out, too. His voice was deeper and started low, then rose by an octave and held. Stunning.
When Roman howled, he sounded different from Gentry. She committed his tone to memory and sang again with him and Gentry. Asher waited so long she thought he wouldn’t join in, but as the tightness in her chest finally eased, he lifted his head and cried out to the winds and the woods and the sky.
This was a declaration. And not just Asher’s. Blaire could almost hear their thoughts, hear the meaning behind this song. A mash-up of jumbled words rattled around in her head, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out if she was making them up or if the three wolves standing so near were talking. I’m staying. We have to stay. I’m staying, too. Just for a while. Not ready to go. Things left unfinished. Not this time.
She was glad Gentry hadn’t killed Rhett now. This moment wouldn’t have existed if he had. He would’ve been alpha of that awful pack, and Asher and Roman would be scattered to the wind. And she, by default, would’ve been a Bone-Ripper, just like the bloodthirsty animals that had tried and failed to kill her.
Her clever mate had known what he was doing.
Gentry had separated the
Strikers from the monsters and separated her from the darkness. They’d saved each other, but he’d gone above and beyond what she could’ve ever imagined. He’d brought her from the brink time and time again when she was fighting for her life in Odine’s cabin. He’d called to her wolf when she got weak, called to her protective instincts, called for her to come back to him.
She was no longer weak, frail, and weaponless in a place where supernaturals ruled the shadows.
Gentry had gone to war with an entire pack for her life.
And then his love had made her into the white wolf of Winter’s Edge.
Epilogue
Well, no one would ever be able to call Blaire boring again. Her eyes were glowing like green bug lights, and the snarl in her chest was constant. Matt would crap a brick if he saw her like this.
While she slathered on another layer of lip-gloss in the pull-down mirror of Gentry’s new truck, stalling like a champ, Roman laughed like a psychopath behind her. From the familiar audio on the phone, she wanted to strangle him.
“Look at this,” he said, shoving his phone toward her. “Look how dumb you look trying to run from your own tail.” Butthole had taken video in Odine’s cabin.
With an eyeroll, Blaire shoved his hand away. She secretly adored Asher and Roman, but she also secretly wanted to strangle them several times a day.
“It’ll be fine,” Gentry said, sliding his hand over her thigh. “There won’t be any humans in there tonight, so if you lose it a little, it’s no big deal.”
She’d prepped for this by Changing earlier and letting her wolf run wild for a few hours, but she still wasn’t confident in her ability to control the animal side of her. It had been two weeks since Odine had raised her wolf and saved her life. Two weeks tucked away and hidden in Hunter Cove until she had more control. Two weeks of begging her boss to let her work from home and explaining to Ashlyn she hadn’t been kidnapped, but that she found a place she wanted to stay. Blaire grinned. Two incredible weeks of getting to spend time with Gentry fixing the inn and cleaning up Winter’s Edge. Two weeks of nights curled up against him in his bed. Her old life felt so far away now. It felt as if she’d ditched all the parts of herself she’d grown disappointed in and clung to the pieces she liked. She was the best version of herself here in Rangeley. Stronger, more confident, more capable of enjoying the moment and not focusing on losing herself in work just to make it to the next day.
Here, with Gentry, she was ardently happy.
But she couldn’t remain hidden in the Hunter Cove Inn for the rest of her life, so tonight was the first night of her new life.
Blaire narrowed her eyes on the Four Horsemen with determination and sighed to expel the rest of her nerves. “I’m ready.”
“About time,” Roman said, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I’ve been trying to annoy you out of the truck for half an hour. I need a drink.”
Asher was already out of the truck and making his way to the tavern, his hands shoved into his pockets. Roman slammed the door and jogged after him. He clapped Asher on the back, which got him a hard shove in the shoulder from the quietest of the Striker brothers. So, everything wasn’t perfect. The brothers still fought like cats and dogs, and not a day went by where they didn’t end up in a fist fight or a wolf-fight, but at least they wouldn’t kill each other now. Probably.
Gentry helped her out of the truck, but he didn’t lead her inside right away. Instead, he pulled her against his chest and buried his face against her neck. “Are you happy?”
“Silly wolf, of course I’m happy. Can’t you feel it?”
“Not tonight.”
Oh. Blaire slid her arms around his neck and held him tight, scratched the back of his neck gently as she stared up at the starry sky. “I’m nervous right now, but I’ll be okay again when I don’t feel like there is this huge weight hanging over us. Odine said my lifeline is long and strong now. And yeah, I didn’t believe in that stuff before, but everything is different now. I’m here, with you, where I’m supposed to be. Now we just need to go secure my place in this town.”
Gentry eased back and gripped her waist, leveling her with a look. There was promise in his voice when he murmured, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Trouble.”
And she believed him. How could she not? She’d watched him fight the Bone-Rippers for her life at the risk of his own. He would have her back always, just like she would have his. His devotion rang clear as a bell through their bond, and she fell in love with him even more.
Gentry leaned into her, pushing her back slowly until her shoulder blades hit the side of his truck. And with a wicked smile she found so sexy, he kissed her. This one was a soft one, where their lips moved slowly against each other. He angled his face the other way and brushed his tongue against the closed seam of her lips as he cupped her neck and touched her cheek with his thumb. Gentle Gentry, a beast in war, a fighter, a protector, but with her, he was tender. Hard where he needed to be for his family and for this town, but easy with her.
She didn’t know how she’d gotten this lucky, but she would work to make him feel her devotion back. Odine had once said she was meant to guide him to his potential, and that witch was right most of the time. But Blaire couldn’t help but feel like it was Gentry who was leading Blaire to hers.
Gentry pushed his tongue against hers in gentle strokes that made her melt into his warmth. She would never get tired of this feeling of safety he always enveloped her with.
A sharp whistle sounded from the Four Horsemen, and Gentry growled against her mouth before he rolled his head toward Roman, who was standing impatiently in the open doorway of the tavern.
Roman arched both eyebrows up and glared at them. “That’s just great that you’re both making out while I’m in here trying to keep Asher from murdering everyone.”
“Right. Business first, making out later,” she teased. Asher probably would murder the Bone-Rippers if they pushed him enough.
Gentry grabbed her hand and jogged toward the open door, his breath freezing in front of his face. When he cast her a bright-eyed glance over his shoulder, she was struck with how handsome her mate was when he smiled like this—the easy kind that he only did for her.
“You ready to stir up some trouble, Trouble?” he asked.
“Ready,” she said breathlessly as she followed him inside.
Gentry’s wide shoulders were blocking her from the loud room, but the second he stepped to the side and she laid eyes on the werewolves gathered there, the noise dropped to dead silence and everyone froze.
“Holy, fuck,” a man in his thirties said from where he held a dart up in mid-air, ready to release it at a board on the wall. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Blaire smiled brightly. “You assholes turned me into one of you instead. Congrats. You failed epically. I need a drink.”
“Whisky?” Roman asked hopefully from behind the bar, where he had apparently decided to play bartender.
“Ew. No. Something sweet.”
“Does not compute,” Roman said, dramatically pouring whisky into a row of shot glasses.
Blaire balked at everyone staring at her, but Gentry guided her toward the bar with his fingertips pressed against her lower back. She sat on a bar stool between Asher and a man who had visited her nightmares. She’d seen his unlaced boots that night the truck had flipped. The night she’d been hunted by wolves. The night her human self had died. Rhett.
She dared to meet his eyes so he could see how very un-human she was now. So he could see his failure to snuff her out.
Gentry locked his arms on the bar top on either side of her and kissed her neck, sucking gently. She stifled the growl in her throat and leaned back into her mate. If he wasn’t worried, she wouldn’t be either. With her whole heart, she trusted Gentry.
He moved his kisses upward, bit her earlobe gently, and then angled his face toward Rhett. “You look like shit.”
Indeed, he did. Rhett hadn’t healed very well from w
here Gentry had worked his throat over, and he was hunched and pale as he nursed a half-full beer.
“What are you doing in my bar, Strikers?” he asked in a hoarse voice. He looked tired and slow, but he still felt heavy enough that Blaire stayed wary.
“Your bar?” Roman asked, passing out shots. “Didn’t know your name was on the lease, but okay. We’ll pick a different bar next time.”
“This is the only bar in town,” a dark-haired woman said quietly from where she stood, hands clasped in front of her, chin to her chest, eyes wary and on Roman.
“False, Mila. You look hot by the way. Grew up right, nice tits. Bad choice in friends though,” Roman said, the humor melting from his voice. “We’re here with announcements. Four announcements to be precise.”
“What announcements?” Rhett ground out. Oh, his eyes were glowing now, and he felt so much heavier.
“One,” Gentry said, gaze locked on the alpha’s. “Blaire’s alive. If at any point anyone here feels like that should change, I will burn your mother-fucking pack to the ground.”
“I will also do the mother-fucking burning,” Roman said, lifting two fingers.
“Same,” Asher said as he stared at Rhett with dead eyes.
“Also same,” Blaire chirped up. “I have teeth and murdery instincts now.”
“That’s my girl,” Gentry murmured and kissed her temple. “Two. Winter’s Edge will be re-opening within the week. It was the bar this pack hung out at back when you were great. All are welcome. Three.”
“Oh, I like three,” Roman said, his eyes flashing with excitement.
“Me, too,” Blaire agreed.
“Three…” The smile dipped from Gentry’s face, and he glared at Rhett. “This isn’t over. I don’t want your pack, but you killed our dad, and then you tried to kill my mate. Don’t take my lenience the other day for weakness, alpha. I’m just more patient at hunting than you are.”