by Melissa Haag
* * * *
We arrived at the Compound just as the sun’s last rays sank below the tree-topped horizon. Vehicles crowded the parking area. I didn’t worry though. Holidays always drew a crowd.
Clay grabbed my bag then walked around to open my door for me. Staying close, we walked inside the Compound. Jackets and shoes filled the entry. It meant cramped quarters for the holiday, but I’d done it before.
We went to the apartment I usually stayed in with Sam, but another family with small cubs had commandeered it. After several minutes of knocking on doors, we gave up trying to find an apartment in the main Compound. We turned down a hall I typically didn’t travel—the unMated wing—and found the majority of the dorm quarters also occupied. Several men passed us as we searched. They gave us curious looks as they scented the air. I stayed close to Clay.
Clay and I grabbed the first open dorm room and put our stuff on the twin bed. We would figure out our sleeping arrangements later.
“I need to talk to Sam,” I said once we were back in the hall. Clay nodded and led the way to the main hall.
Charlene and her crew had done a wonderful job decorating the large room. Cornucopias with harvest produce sat on each of the long tables. Several turkeys with feathers made of construction paper hands hung on the walls. The cubs had obviously partaken in crafts while visiting. It amused me that Charlene insisted on celebrating the US holiday while living in Canada. Her extended adopted family didn’t seem to mind. I could hear women laughing in the attached kitchen. Fresh pumpkin pie perfumed the air.
In the midst of all the decorations, I spotted Sam. He sat with his back to me, conversing with several other men at one of the many sitting areas in the main hall. I noticed the weary slope of his shoulders. Part of me—the part that lived with him for so long and thought of him as “grandpa”—wanted to run over and hug him. I ignored that part.
Before he noticed me, I strode over and interrupted their conversation.
“It’s time we talked,” I said, tersely.
He turned toward me with a hesitant smile then quickly nodded to the others, who got up to move to another group.
“Gabby, I didn’t think you’d be up until tomorrow.”
Clay and I shared a glance. The main hall didn’t afford privacy since all the werewolves present would hear me. Then again, very few places in the Compound qualified as private to that degree. Normally, I wouldn’t care who heard me, but I had the mystery of the blue-grey werewolves to solve. I did a quick scan of the room and managed to hold back a wince of pain.
Clay gave an annoyed grunt but gently rubbed my back. He’d become adept at knowing when I used my gift.
In the brief glimpse, I’d noted the sparks all appeared normal. Well, for a werewolf anyway. But it only assured me to a degree. Although I didn’t think Sam responsible for what had happened, I still wondered if he might know something about it.
“We came early because two werewolves tried breaking into my house.” I watched Sam closely as I said it.
“What?” Sam said, giving Clay a sharp look. Sam appeared genuinely upset and concerned.
“He’s still not talking,” I said. I slumped into the chair across from Sam. “I believe their intentions were to kidnap me.”
Clay lowered himself into the chair next to me. He always stayed close, and I couldn’t imagine it any other way. If it hadn’t been for Clay, the men probably would have taken me. What would have happened then? I thought about the blonde man who’d been lying on the floor, and my stomach clenched with worry. My troubled gaze swung to Clay.
Clay met my look with calm, brown eyes. Staring into their depths, a tense breath eased out of me. Sure, I had questions, but I wouldn’t let the answers to any of them affect the tie Clay and I had.
I gave Clay a small worried smile then turned my attention back to Sam. Different colored lights...a pull to another man when it should only happen once...I could come up with the only possible explanation.
“Is there more than one kind of werewolf?” I asked bluntly. Maybe I’d stir up trouble with my public questioning, but I was tired of waiting.
Sam frowned and leaned forward. “Not sure what you mean, exactly.”
Sam watched me closely. I nibbled on my lip and thought back to the original challenger. Physically, he’d looked like any other werewolf. So if Sam didn’t already know about another kind of werewolf, I didn’t think there would be a way for him to differentiate. Then I thought of the last one I saw on the floor.
“When you go fur, what color variations are possible? Different shades of fur, eyes...what about nose, or nails?”
The door to the commons opened, and a few more werewolves drifted in, slowly walking toward other groups. While they progressed across the room, they kept their heads tilted, listening as if already aware of the important conversation occurring in our small group.
“What does this have to do with—”
I held up a hand. “Bear with me, Sam. I need answers to give answers.”
Sam turned his attention to Clay.
“I already told you, he still isn’t talking. Look, is there another Elder I can talk to? One willing to answer my questions?”
I wanted to take my harsh words back when Sam’s face fell.
The expression cleared after a moment, and he slowly answered. “Fur is like hair and varies just like a human’s. Same with the eyes. We are more like dogs when it comes to our noses. Mostly dark, but we sometimes have unusual markings. Did you see an identifying mark, Gabby?”
I ignored his question. “What about the nails?”
He shrugged. “Shades of grey. Mostly a dark grey.”
“Black?”
“Well, like I said, a dark grey is possible.”
“No. I mean black. A very glossy black you could see your reflection in.”
Sam remained introspectively quiet for a full minute. The intense silence claimed my attention. Looking around, I caught the eyes of a few others in the room before they quickly looked away.
“I don’t think I’ve ever paid that much attention to our claws before. But, no, I don’t believe so.”
I slumped back in my chair, thinking. Everyone in the room watched me, waiting for what I’d say next.
Could there really be another species of werewolf? The sparks I saw indicated the possibility. But if I followed that line of reasoning, did that then mean I was another species of human? Maybe these werewolves just had different abilities. I chewed on my lip for a minute. What about the nail color? Could that small difference carry enough significance to classify two separate species? I was grasping. I needed to grasp. If there were two kinds, it could explain why I had two potential Mates.
Frustrated and still tired from my stunt with Rachel, I scowled and got to the heart of my angst. Sure, I wanted to know what the color differences meant, but I needed to know why I felt what I did when I saw that man unconscious on the floor.
Sam cleared his throat, and I ignored him. Someone spoke softly further back in the room. Others moved restlessly.
So what if I felt the same pull for another guy? It just meant I had a choice. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted all along? Yet, now that I had options, I couldn’t see myself walking away from Clay...not for school, not for a career, and not for some creep who snuck into my house.
I peeked at Clay, unable to hide my turmoil. He reached out, offering his hand. His hair hid his eyes again, making it hard to read him. I looked down at his hand, calloused and so real.
Realization dawned. Clay and I held the answers. I kept my eyes trained on his hand to hide my thoughts. When I’d focused on Luke, I saw the yellow-violet spark. When I’d focused on Rachel, I’d expected to see Peter, but I hadn’t. Human vs. werewolf testing. If I was right about different species and tried the same test with Clay, I foresaw two possibilities. I would see myself as Clay’s Mate or I wou
ld see two potential Mates for myself, thus supporting my theory of another werewolf species.
Doubt crept in. What if I didn’t see myself? What if it didn’t work that way, and I saw the werewolf that Clay had knocked out?
I needed to know.
Lacing my fingers through his, I closed my eyes and focused. I held onto my need to find the perfect Mate for Clay and my hope I’d see myself.
The shock jumped from my hand to his, and my vision of the real world narrowed. I held my breath, terrified of the answer. My second sight exploded into existence. Not the great void filled with billions of sparks, but with the vibrant intensity and color of the sun. The white yellow core pulsed, its energy radiating outward, cooling to a molten orange. Hope flooded me as I realized my own spark filled my vision.
The vision closed, and my eyes once again focused on the real world. My hand still rested within Clay’s, but I caught the change in his expression. Clay glared at me. He knew what I’d done, but I couldn’t feel bad about it. Joy filled me. I’d been right. It didn’t answer my question about the variances in sparks, but I didn’t care. It had given me the answer I needed.
I smiled sweetly and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the lips. When our lips touched, something tangible changed. The joy I felt remained, but something else crept in. I pulled back, eyes wide. My heart hammered and my stomach clenched as I stared at him, unable to look away. Mesmerized.
In shock, I realized what I’d done. I’d transferred my pull to him. Only he wasn’t pulling in men. He pulled me in, and the force of it consumed me. He represented a hot fudge sundae to a diet-starved girl. Even knowing that what I felt was a result of my power, I couldn’t ignore it. He was so handsome, so perfect, and so clueless as he continued to scowl at me.
His fingers still twined through mine, but I needed more from him. I needed an affirmation of us as a pair. I wanted to touch his face and smell his skin. I wanted to hold him tight and never let go.
With speed I never imagined I possessed, I moved from my seat to his, straddled his lap, and leaned my forehead against his. He grunted in surprise, but otherwise didn’t move.
Breathing in deeply, I smelled the soap he’d used and closed my eyes. His hair tickled my nose. I pressed my lips to the tip of his nose. My heart twisted painfully. His hand came up, lightly resting on my side. It heated my ribs. The contact of each finger branded me. Better, but not enough. My mind kept chanting “more.” I opened my eyes and smiled.
Forgetting our audience, I ran my hands through his hair and pulled back to kiss his exposed forehead. His cautious brown eyes met mine. I lost myself in their depths for several moments as I recalled the first time I saw them. On his driver’s license. I needed more from him. No more hiding from each other.
I tilted my head and kissed his cheek. The whiskers abraded my lips, but I didn’t mind. I moved lower, finding his lips. He didn’t resist me, but didn’t join in as he had in the car. I frowned slightly. A stab of doubt pierced my heart. This didn’t feel right, yet. He still hid from me.
Nudging his jaw with my nose, I made room to nuzzle his neck. My lips skimmed his smooth skin. His pulse jumped under my mouth. Finally, he reacted. Both his hands came up, holding my sides, kneading me, encouraging. My breath quickened, and my heart hammered. Yes! This was right.
Something took possession of me. With one hand, I gripped his hair and tugged it. He tilted his head to the side and exposed his neck, giving in willingly. My eyes traced his neck where his pulse skipped erratically. The beat matched my own. I couldn’t look away from that clean-shaven spot. I recalled when he had started shaving it. He’d known I would need to see it. For this. I kissed it lightly and felt him shudder. Before the shudder ended, I bit him hard on the same spot. Hard enough to draw blood.
The taste of his blood on my tongue broke the hold he had on me and created a new one somewhere deep inside. I pulled back slightly to look at the small marks I’d left. They had already begun to heal.
The pull he had on me and the euphoria of the moment faded as the horror of what I’d just done washed over me.
Clay stared at me in stunned silence...versus his everyday silence. Behind me, someone moved and called attention to the fact that we still had an audience. A Claiming typically occurred in private.
A deep blush seized my cheeks, and embarrassed tears began to gather. I wiped the blood from my mouth with a shaky hand. I didn’t regret Claiming him, but wished we could have talked first. I needed reassurance. Would this mean I’d have to quit school? Would he want me to live in the woods with him? If he did, I owed it to him to try after everything he’d done for me.
Then, a really ugly question floated to the surface. Had I just forced him?
Panic bloomed in my chest. Before I could scramble off his lap, he reached up and gently stroked my hair. I froze, hands braced on his chest for stability, ready to flee.
“I’ve been waiting for that since the moment I saw you,” he said in a deep and husky voice. He sounded like a midnight radio DJ.
Hearing his perfect voice ignited my temper. Now, he could talk? I scowled at him. The man had the audacity to laugh then scoop me up in his arms.
The room around us erupted in cheers, and I hid my blazing face in his chest, my thoughts a confused jumble. I felt him walk, but didn’t have the courage to look up to meet the faces of the people who’d witnessed our Claiming. The sounds of cheering faded as he moved out of the commons. My tears of embarrassment dried before they spilled over.