Unlike the first time I’d done this, there wasn’t enough pain to dampen the experience. The relief of shifting—finally—filled me like a tall glass of water on a hot day. By the time my four paws hit the ground, I was overcome. I had missed my wolf. And now I knew it had missed me.
“George.” I opened my mouth, calling his name, and closed it again as my jaw locked onto his shoulder.
With a mouthful of his fur caught between my teeth, I yanked.
George yelped and spun—and stalled when he saw my wolf. I stepped between him and Steppe, although the others had pulled him far enough back that he was surrounded by another layer of bodies now, some human, some wolves.
George’s eyes narrowed as he regained his composure. “Let me have this, Tara. You can’t tell me you don’t agree with me,” he said. The words were garbled by his wolf jaw and more than that, his wild anger.
“I don’t want to take it from you,” I said. “But he and I are bonded.”
“What?” His wolf eyes went wide and he stepped back. “You’re ... When?”
“A couple of days ago.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He stepped back and hung his head.
I grunted at him and felt my panic dial back some as the threat of the fight disappeared. Now, the bond came rushing in from all sides. This. Oh God, this was what had been holding it at bay—and I hadn’t even known.
My wolf let out a whine and I buckled underneath the weight of the voices and pictures and thoughts being poured into my mind. Dark rooms and secret deals. Politics—smiles and lies. Whispered orders, murder. And long before all of that, a boy. Young and happy save for the rooted hate for all things four-legged and furry. Innocent and ingrained from generations of ignorant racism for a cause he believed was truly noble. A girl who felt the same. And love. Once, there was love. And a baby girl.
“Oh God,” I heard myself moan, followed closely by the sharp voices of my friends as a pair of hands and bodies swarmed closer. A blanket landed over me and it stung my raw skin. I hadn’t even realized I’d shifted back.
You can’t see this. I won’t allow it.
Gordon’s voice started as a whispered plea amid the physical pain from left over from George’s claws. I felt both like a pain of my own. When I didn’t comply, he yelled it.
Get out! These memories are mine, not yours.
Hands slid underneath me, wrapping the blanket around me like a cocoon. Still, the images hit me like a barrage of enemy fire. I barely knew whether my eyes were open or closed. What was real and what was being remembered?
How had I not seen any of this before now?
My wolf strained against the confines of the blanket as the hands scooped me up and carried me away. Now that she was loose again, she didn’t want to be shoved aside. But the bond was full and tossing me around like a rag doll against the tide of his thoughts.
It was nothing like what I’d ever felt before from the any of the others.
Steppe had power. And knowledge. And more than that, pain. And laced through it all was his own conviction—commitment to his beliefs. The problem was that he’d managed to convince himself that killing Werewolves was a worthy and noble cause. It was hate disguised as duty. And it made me want to vomit.
As proof, my stomach swirled and flipped as the hands carrying me jostled their way through the crowd.
“Get him out of here. And George, find some clothes and stop running around on four legs,” Wes called as he pushed his way through the crowded room. He adjusted me at the bottom of the stairs and I could feel him looking down. I kept my eyes shut tight against the brimming flow of emotion.
“I keep trying to feel her but our connection is gone,” I heard George say to the others. I felt the sadness in his words even without the benefit of an emotional bond. The pang hit me dully in the center of the onslaught of Steppe’s ranting, and tears filled my eyes.
Wes pulled me close, kissing my forehead. “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “Your wolf will take care of you. And so will I.”
I tried nodding or responding, but there was nothing. Only silence. My head swung sideways as he turned to carry me to bed and a face swam into view. Familiar blonde hair, soft skin, and angry eyes stared back at me, the chaos of the room a perfect backdrop to the tunneled clarity through which I saw her.
The bond shifted and my view of her became double-paned. Two realities. Past and present. Then and now. Lies and truths. All of them attached to secrets. All of them his greatest failure, her greatest fear.
“Cord,” I said softly. I had no idea whether I’d managed the word aloud. And she didn’t react to my greeting.
Then, Wes swung me up the staircase and back to bed. I didn’t open my eyes or mouth again that night.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke hot and flushed in the stuffy bedroom. Warming sunlight streamed through the window, hurting my eyes and sending them blinking as I struggled to take in my surroundings. For a panicked moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or how I’d come to be in bed in a room that smelled like pine, decorated like a log cabin. Blankets and limbs were wrapped in each other, creating a hot cocoon. I needed to breathe. I tossed the cover aside, revealing an arm that was not my own wrapped firmly around my hips.
I followed it to its owner and remembered. The night’s events came flooding back, starting with my escape from Gordon’s lair—had that really only been twenty-four hours ago? I checked the bedside clock and sure enough, I’d only been asleep a few hours. It was barely lunchtime. In the cheerful sunlight and quiet bedroom, yesterday seemed so distant.
I relaxed and snuggled back in against a still-sleeping Wes. His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer, and I let him, forcing my brain—and my lungs—to calm down.
But the longer I lay there, the more awake I became.
My escape the previous day had been the easy part. The rest of it had been nearly overwhelming to my senses. The attack from those wolves at the highway rest stop. Derek roughing up Steppe at the side of the road while I stood by, feeling the pain. George’s attack on Steppe.
I needed to see George and the others. Make sure everyone was calm after the events of last night. I didn’t have to poke very far to know Steppe was hurting. Both from the scratches left by George’s claws and from my trespass across the stretch of his mind. Cord. No, I couldn’t think about that now.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling, disbelief still coating everything else.
I’d been so focused on keeping him at bay, pushing him out of my thoughts and memories, that I hadn’t realized I’d failed to push my way into his. But the moment I’d shifted, I no longer had a choice. My wolf made everything stronger, including, and especially, a blood bond.
There was no way to unknow what I’d learned. And no one was going to like it when I told them, either. I shifted underneath the heavy blankets, debating the possibility of escaping Wes and this room without waking him.
The moment I slid away and sat up, Wes cracked an eye. “Going somewhere?” he asked in a voice that let me know he’d been awake long before this moment.
I sighed. “I need to talk to Steppe.”
“Not a chance.” He slid his hand around my hip and pulled me back down to the mattress, sitting up on his elbow and planting a kiss on my cheek. “We’re actually in an alternate universe right now where only you and me and this room exist. There’s nothing out there for you,” he said, planting kisses between words. “Only this, here. With me.”
I smiled and gave in, turning my head to meet our lips. My hands slid up and around his neck in a movement so familiar, so heartbreakingly absent from my life these last weeks, tears welled and escaped before I could catch them.
Wes broke the kiss and dusted my cheeks with his fingertips. “What’s this?” he asked softly. “There’s no crying allowed in this alternate dimension.”
I tried for a smile but it felt small and sad. “You’re different,” I said, and behind his ey
es, worry and fear flashed and were gone.
“How so?” he asked but he leaned away, his expression serious as he abandoned the jokes.
“You’re not so intense with the need to control,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. Something about his show of nerves put me on edge, like I might offend him by pointing out his pain. “Usually, you’d be a mess by now with everything going on and worrying about me.”
A shadow passed over his features as the fear flickered in and out again. “I’m still a mess worrying about you, but ... I’m trying to make you feel better. You’ve been through a lot and I don’t want you to be scared because you see my worry. And I don’t want to fight about it,” he added quietly. “Like we usually do.”
“Wes, it’s okay to let your feelings show. I’m not going to break.”
Or maybe I already was. But I couldn’t say that.
“I know that. But I can’t do anything else for you.” His grip on me tightened as he spoke and frustration leaked into his words. “I wasn’t there. I couldn’t stop ... everything that happened to you. I couldn’t protect you then. And now, with Gordon in your head, I can’t protect you from that either. So if I can distract you, give you happiness or a smile or whatever for just five minutes, that’s what I’ll do. Because that’s something. And sitting on the sidelines doing nothing, that will make me feel like a mess.”
“In that case, distract away,” I said.
He grinned and leaned in, his eyes on my mouth in a way that made me shiver. I raised my chin, eager for more kisses, when the bedroom door opened.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on babysitting duty?” My mother glared at Wes.
Wes jumped to his feet, clearly guilty, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “My shift ended an hour ago,” he said without quite meeting her eyes.
Thank God he had his jeans on.
“In that case, we could use some extra hands for breakfast duty,” my mom said.
Wes glanced at the clock. “It’s closer to lunch,” he said, and then when my mom’s expression darkened, he added, “Ma’am.”
She only glared.
Wes grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor beside the bed and yanked it on. “I’m on it,” he mumbled.
He glanced down at me and then slipped past my mom without another word. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at how he could go from alpha Werewolf to intimidated schoolboy so quickly.
My mom had that affect.
“That wasn’t nice,” I said when he was gone.
She leveled her stern expression at me and I shrank back. Okay, now I knew why Wes had broken so easily. “You might not be under my roof but you are still my daughter. And I am still your mother.”
“I turned eighteen a couple of months ago,” I pointed out.
My mother’s expression softened. “I know. I’m sorry we never really did much to celebrate that.”
“It’s fine. Cambria took me out, remember?”
“A night at the pool hall isn’t what I would’ve ...” She trailed off into a sigh and I tried not to think about where we stood back then. My mother and I had been in a rough place ever since I’d learned what I was. “We’ll make up for it this year,” she added and I wondered if she meant more than just a missed birthday party.
She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed my hair back. “That was quite a show last night. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I said. And then, because I wanted her prediction of making up for it to come true, I asked, “How are you feeling?”
She blinked. “Me? I’m fine, why?”
“Mom, your only daughter was held captive for weeks. You saw me shift into a wolf last night right before your eyes and then shift back, stark naked, in a room full of people. And you just found me in bed with my boyfriend, half-clothed. If anyone should be having a breakdown here it’s you.”
She smiled wryly. “Well, when you put it that way ... There’s got to be a dirty oven around here somewhere.”
Her smile faded quickly and the moment turned heavy. “I wanted to talk to you alone because ... I ... there’s something...”
“Spit it out, Mom,” I said, my voice teasingly light compared to the ball of knots twisting away in my stomach. My mother was high-anxiety and high-stress, usually in the form of too much cleaning products and a lack of sense of humor—but this was strange even for her.
“It’s not that easy,” she said, her gaze darting every which way but at me. She twisted the edge of the bedsheet between her fingers and licked her lips. When her eyes finally found mine, there was only one thing reflected back at me. A thing I understood well by now: secrets.
“Mom, tell me,” I repeated firmly.
She opened her mouth, ready to spill ... something, and the door opened again. She shut her mouth and we turned toward the intruder.
“Fee!” I said, jumping up and running to her, arms open, irritation already evaporating. There would be time to talk later. Not like my mom hadn’t kept things before.
“Hello, Tara.” Fee smiled and opened her arms, folding me into a warm hug. I inhaled the scent of her—the same scent her entire house had carried back in Frederick Falls—and my chest ached with the memories that came with it. I’d woken up in that house more than once after a fight and Fee had always been right there, her ability to heal saving my life from Werewolf bites and scratches—and even once, my mother’s anger at finding out I’d lied. But I refused to let my reminiscing dampen the moment.
I smiled back at Fee and stepped aside so my mom could lean over and hug Fee too. When had my mom adjusted this way to Werewolves being back in our lives?
“When did you get here?” I asked. “Is Jack here? Did you have any problems?”
“One question at a time,” she said, laughing. Her blonde hair shook lightly where it hung in pretty waves over her shoulders. I remembered the first time I’d seen her. Wavy hair spilling down her back, petite, pretty frame. Her entire aura had been gentle and nurturing on a day where everything else had been uncertain and terrifying. Seeing her had taken away my fear. And I’d had plenty to be afraid of that day. Just like today, in fact.
“First,” she continued, holding up a finger, “Let’s get you feeling better. I heard you’ve had some problems shifting lately. And you’ve been running on fumes, exhausted, from what it sounds.”
I hung my head, guilty as charged. “Those are probably the least of what I’ve got going on,” I mumbled.
Fee took my hand, squeezed. “Then let’s talk about it and get you well. Elizabeth, would you mind gathering some ingredients for my tea?” she asked.
“Sure, tell me what you need,” my mom said.
Fee rattled off a few things I’d never heard of and a few things I had. Somewhere between lavender and chamomile I was pretty sure I heard her ask for Hawkweed and something called Holy Basil. I decided I’d rather not know.
“I’ll get them together and have them brought up,” my mom said. She planted a kiss on my forehead, whispering, “We’ll talk later,” and slipped out.
Fee wasted no time guiding me back to bed and beginning an official exam. Pulse, temperature, blood pressure , reflexes. Questions.
“And this bond with Steppe? Is it manageable, I mean, like the others?” she asked when I’d told her everything I could about my confinement and the experiments done. Something about the clinical way Fee approached my answers made it easier to relive. I took a deep breath, thinking it over before answering that last one.
“It’s different than the others,” I said slowly, doing my best to understand it before attempting to describe it to someone else.
“Go on,” she said.
“He’s darker. Smarter. And pushy. He won’t back off and let my thoughts be mine. He wants them all. The others were polite ... at least as much as possible given the situation. They would back off when they neared something private but not Steppe. He’s ... intrusive.” I said.
“And you’re exha
usted trying to push him out,” she concluded.
“Yes. Until last night when I shifted, I’d concentrated only on keeping him at the edges. But my wolf opened things the other way, I guess, and now I’m in his head too.” I smiled tightly. “He doesn’t like it very much.”
As proof, Gordon mentally scowled and I sucker punched him.
“Good for you. See what you can find out,” Fee said, patting my hand.
I mumbled that I would and fell silent, fighting my temptation to spill what I’d already gleaned. My discovery was huge, but more than the truth itself, the secret belonged to someone I couldn’t afford to betray or make an enemy out of. Not when enlisting her help could be the wild card we needed to take Steppe down once and for all.
“I will,” I promised instead.
“I’m told last night was your first shift since whatever Gordon did to suppress your wolf during those weeks you were held. How are you feeling?”
“Twitchy,” I admitted. “My wolf didn’t want to be shoved back inside so quickly.”
“I know the feeling. Or, opposite, in fact,” she said. “Jack and I spent much of the last few weeks as wolves. It was safer and easier to hide that way.”
My expression clouded. “I’m glad you’re both safe.”
“Me too,” she said. We fell silent and I knew we were both thinking about what lay ahead and how not everyone involved would come through as safely as we had so far.
Fee took a deep breath and said, “In the meantime, I’m going to check on that tea and I want you to relax and rest. There’s a meeting after breakfast to discuss our next steps. I’ll send Wes up to get you.”
She rose and stood over me, a stern expression already in place. I knew she expected me to argue and want to come down now, but I just nodded and let her tuck me in tighter before she left.
There was plenty I could do from right here.
Steppe, I thought. We need to talk.
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