The front door opened behind me and woodsy warmth broke my train of thought.
“You're right, it’s quieter out here,” Jonathan said as he sat down beside me, a box of fries in hand. He offered me a few and we ate in a silence that was much more companionable than I thought two strangers could ever know. I found myself relaxing in his presence.
Something else whispered through me and I suddenly found myself very self-conscious. I frowned. It had been nearly five days since my last shower, and I was still wearing the bloodstained sweatpants. I covered a growl of my own with the grunt of effort to get vertical again.
“Let me help you,” Jonathan said, supporting my efforts to get up with an arm at my waist as he handed me the crutch.
Settling my weight onto the crutch I sighed, “I'm no whining puppy.”
I started hopping toward the black Ram. I heard and felt Jonathan following me. Reaching for my bag on the ground next to the passenger door made the set of scabbed over wounds on my shoulder itch as it stretched. I grunted with the awkward effort, I turned to swing the duffel up on to my shoulder. My face stopped nearly an inch from Jonathan's chest, the scent of him making me lightheaded as his hand gently closed around my own on the handles of my bag. With a start, I realized I could hear his heart thumping in his chest.
“No one here thinks you weak,” he said softly. “The strength of will alone that it takes to survive an attack has nothing to do with luck, despite what you may think.”
I gingerly pulled my hand free—no, it's more accurate to say that he let me pull my hand free—and swallowed around something that was not quite fear and not quite self-pity. I closed my eyes and tried just to concentrate on breathing. His clothes rustled as he moved and, startled, I opened my eyes to find that I was looking at his back as he stalked toward the house with my bag. What the hell just happened?
“Everyone's out back,” Jonathan said over his shoulder.
I shook my head and followed him in silence up the stairs and into the room where I'd been staying.
“I'll send Kaylah up to help you with the bandages.” With slow, precise movements, as if he didn’t want to spook me, he set the bag down on the armchair in the corner of the room.
I bit my lip, remembering the scrubbing from before. “Thank you, but I can get my own bandages this time, really.”
Jonathan nodded and gestured to a room on the other side of the hall from this one. “Bathroom's there, towels under the sink.”
Suddenly, I realized I stood between him and the door, effectively blocking his exit. Sheepishly, I hopped out of his way. He reached out and brushed the scar on my cheekbone with his knuckle as he passed me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I flinched at the touch, but something in my gut squirmed in a way not entirely unlike butterflies do about a high school crush. Only this wasn't high school, and I knew next to nothing about Jonathan.
Sighing, I pulled a change of clothes from my bag along with my toiletries and hobbled into the bathroom. I locked the door and rested my forehead against the frame for just a moment to catch my breath and clear my head of Jonathan's scent. Straightening up and setting my crutch against the vanity, I shrugged my hoodie off. A full-length mirror was mounted on the back of the door, and a wall-to-wall mirror rested above the vanity, bumping right up against the tub and shower door frame. The bathroom was well-lit, and—with all the mirrors—it was possible to see just about every angle of my body.
I swallowed around another lump in my throat and placed my rosary on the counter near the crutch. I found a towel and a washcloth under the sink, as Jonathan said, and put the washcloth in the shower stall. I pulled my borrowed tank top off to reveal fresh pink scars that slashed across and up the right side of my belly to just under my ribcage. I gingerly peeled the bandages of my itching shoulder—more red-pink scars mottled with dark brown scabs.
I frowned and turned away from the mirror as best I could while I worked the rest of the bandages off, including the splints for my left wrist and right thigh. I gently tried the mobility on my wrist and found that so long as I was careful, it was painless. No sudden movements with it for sure, and no carrying any real weight with it, but it wasn't completely useless at least. It had been just four days since I was attacked in the forest. Four days since those bones were destroyed. No human heals that fast. My vision blurred.
I reached over and turned the water on, managing to hobble under the spray of water hot enough to scald before the tears started. Maybe I could have explained everyone's scent and me having a particularly dexterous day with the keys, but no human heals that fast. I remembered the jaws clamping shut, crushing the bones in my wrist. Thoughts swarmed in my head, all wanting attention and answers all at once. There was no telling how I was to live my life now that I was...I sighed. Gonna have to get used to calling myself that sometime, right? And no time like the present, right?
Now that I was a werewolf.
They all seemed to have a pretty decent hold on their humanity. Certainly none of the ones I'd met so far seemed a danger to me. But what was to be done about my old circle of friends? We weren’t terribly close, but still, what would I say to them? I lathered my hair.
'The world isn't ready for wolves.' Sheppard's words echoed in my head. What sort of things will I have to hide from my friends if I can't tell them about what I am now? And just what do wolves do for fun anyway? The water turned cold before I'd even realized I'd been in there that long. The warmest I could manage now was room temperature water. I scrubbed at my skin as best I could and turned off the water, my thoughts still swarming darkly.
I stepped out of the shower stall and the savory scent of grilled meat flooded my nostrils, making my stomach rumble. I toweled off and pulled on my favorite jeans and a comfy black top with long sleeves, leaving my feet bare. I skipped trying to replace the splints—there was no way I was going to get them properly repositioned on my own anyway—and combed my hair in the mirror.
I heard movement outside the bathroom door. Sheppard’s warm familiar scent mixed with that of smokiness from the grill. I opened the door to find I was face to face with him, his golden-brown eyes boring into me.
“Breathe,” he said, quiet command in the word, and I inhaled deeply. “If you try to go meet them like you are right now, they're all going to clamber all over each other to try to make it better. We protect. It's what we do and who we are down to the very core of our being. This is pack.” Warmth shimmered in the air. “You are pack—but you will have to be there for them too. Pack takes care of pack.”
I swallowed around a huge lump in my throat as I fought back the tears again. This warmth, it was how it was always supposed to be, I was sure of it. For a moment, I was certain that everything in my life had led me to be right where I needed to be when that crazed wolf went looking for its next target.
But then I realized that something had been hanging, unsaid, in the air with everyone. “There's a chance I won't survive the change.” My heart pounded in my ears.
Sheppard pursed his lips and squeezed my shoulder. “It’s true, many can't strike a balance with their wolf.” He sighed. “But your wolf's not letting you go that easily.”
I felt my eyes go wide and I stared past him. “My wolf—”
He smiled and nodded, placing a gentle kiss my forehead. “You just haven't let yourself quiet down enough to catch her. She's there—a part of you—and she's not going to let you go.”
He stepped aside and gestured toward the room I'd been staying in. I picked up the crutch and my rosary, grasping the crucifix tightly and holding it to my chest. My wrist didn’t throb. “I'll send Kaylah up with some of her tea. Calm yourself a bit before coming out back to meet everyone.”
I nodded slowly. Sheppard left down the stairs and I hopped into my room. I sat on the bed and stared into nothing as I fiddled with the beads on the rosary. My wolf? I felt something stir in my gut. I ran a hand through my damp hair as Kaylah came into the room, a steaming mug
in her hand. The smell of her tea made my nose crinkle and she smiled as she handed it to me.
“It's much weaker this time,” she said. “Still good enough to calm ya down some.”
I held the mug and gently swirled the yellow liquid contents. “So there's...” I did some quick math, “seven werewolves running around in the backyard.”
Random shouts and yelling came in through the window, but I couldn’t decipher the actual words. I took a sip of the tea, “Sounds like the beginning of some crazy joke.”
Kaylah put a hand on my knee and, with her other hand, brushed some of my hair back behind my ear. “I know how you must feel. I still don't really understand what put me here. I just know that this is where I'm s'posed to be.” She shrugged. “This is a good pack. Sheppard's a good leader for this pack.”
Something haunted her eyes.
“The silly books get that part right at least.”
“Hmm?” her eyes returned from the distant place they had just been.
“The alpha, he's the leader of the pack,” I said. “The books I read all seem to agree that werewolf packs have alphas who lead them around and tell them what to do.”
Kaylah smiled. “He's the leader and the protector of us. Sure, we all go huntin' and do stuff as a pack, but Sheppard's the glue. He keeps us all centered. Which is good since we're all made wolves here aside from him.”
I took a big gulp of the tea before speaking again. “So, every single one of you used to be human.”
“All but Sheppard,” she confirmed. She took my injured wrist in her hands, rotating it around as she squeezed along the bones. It wasn’t comfortable, but it didn’t hurt.
Apparently, my wrist set to her satisfaction and she put my hand back in my lap as I took another sip of tea.
“None a that now,” she said, eyeballing my mug. “Git the rest a that tea down already so you c’n calm yer nerves n’ eat. I know yer hungry.”
I dutifully gulped down the rest and handed her the empty mug.
She smiled expectantly as she rose from the bed. “Ready?”
I took a deep breath. “Now or never, right?”
A light laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “Nope, it’s only now missy.”
She helped me to my feet and put a steadying hand on my back as I hobbled with the crutch to the top of the stairs. Splint or no, my right leg still wasn't accepting any real weight. I was surprised at her strength as she helped me down the stairs.
FIVE
KAYLAH’S HELP MEANT that she had mostly just carried the crutch downstairs for me as I leaned on her for support, but she handed it to me once we reached the landing. I looked up to find both the living room and the dining room beyond it empty. No one was seated at the large dark wood table, though its mismatched chairs seemed almost out of place. They may have all been the same color as the table, but no two styles were the same. The large picture window behind the table provided a nearly panoramic view of the backyard, where more than a handful of people played some sort of running game in the light of late afternoon.
Though the neighbors had wire and post fences, Sheppard’s property didn’t. The back line of his property was open to the woods and rocks beyond. But the view of the mountains was simply stunning. I had been in The Springs most of my life, and still never got tired of seeing the mountains to the west.
We passed through the eat-in kitchen, and Kaylah held the back door open for me. The crisp fall breeze carried the mixed scents of all the pack members, along with the smoky scent of charring meat and the earthy scent of potatoes. My stomach growled again as I stepped out the back door and onto a large patio, where long picnic tables and Adirondack chairs filled most of the available pavement. Someone had set up a couple of folding tables along the house as well, with coolers underneath. Hamburger and hot dog buns filled the tables, along with all the requisite condiments, napkins, and plates. If they didn’t shop at a big-box store, they probably cleared out the local grocery store’s stock of all of it. Sheppard tended to a grill at the far end of the patio. It was almost as long as I was tall.
The pack raced across the yard, toward a shed on the back corner of the property, chasing someone who carried an old football. They tackled the lanky guy with close-cropped dark hair, tumbling over each other like puppies. They were all in t-shirts and jeans or sweatpants. It was November. It should have been cold enough to warrant a coat, but even I was surprisingly comfortable. One by one, as they untangled themselves from the dogpile, they stood and watched my approach.
Crap.
I was immediately self-conscious of my hobbling gait and tried to adjust my steps to make it look like I only barely needed the crutch. I suspect I was not terribly successful, but in that moment, a part of me so desperately wanted to belong among them that I didn't want anyone to think for even a moment that I was a liability. I took a deep, steadying breath. They all stared at me, but at least Sheppard was smiling.
Sheppard looked at the pack and then back at me. “Everyone, this is Lynn.” He gestured to me. “She is the one I told Matt to keep an eye on.”
I still hadn't decided whether I was okay with that fact, despite my disquieting lack of distress about it.
I waved. “Hello.” Like I said, I’m a stunning conversationalist. Jonathan caught my eye and winked at me.
“Lynn,” Sheppard continued, spreading his arms to indicate everyone in the backyard. “This is the pack. You already know Matt, of course.”
Matt crossed his arms and nodded to me.
“This is his mate, Chastity.” He indicated the woman next to Matt.
She had burnished auburn hair that fell in spiral curls around her freckled face. Her hazel eyes met mine, sizing me up for a moment before she raised her hand in a quick greeting. She then hooked her arm against Matt’s and moved half a step closer to him.
“You already know Jonathan, of course, and Kaylah.” Sheppard pointed to a tall man with chocolate-brown eyes and short wavy hair. “That’s Kaylah’s mate, Daniel.”
Daniel’s face lit up with his smile as he waved.
“The pup over there is Jamie.” Sheppard gestured to the lanky guy who had been tackled earlier. “He’s Jonathan’s little brother.”
Well of course he was, his pale green eyes had the same gold flecks as his brother. He looked distinctly younger than the other wolves, except for maybe the slim guy next to him.
“Hi,” Jamie said with a wave.
“And that’s Ian, next to him,” Sheppard continued.
Ian had mousy brown hair and sapphire-blue eyes. He had a hand in his pocket with the football tucked between his elbow and his body. He raised his other hand in a greeting and smiled at me.
“Food’s not ready just yet, guys,” Sheppard said. “Couple more minutes still.”
It was like the dismissal bell for recess. Ian immediately tossed the ball across the yard to Daniel, who passed it off to Matt. He let the pack stalk toward him, pacing them around the yard for a moment before throwing the ball to Jamie. The pack redirected, and Jamie went down in a sea of arms and legs.
I pulled one of the Adirondack chairs over to watch their game. As I was about to sit down, Sheppard called my name. I turned and before I knew what happened, a hand came between my face and a can of soda. My hand. Cool liquid dripped down my forearm. Soda. I had not only caught the drink with my formerly shattered hand and wrist, but my apparent new-found strength had crushed the can. I dropped the mangled and soggy aluminum and shook some of the wetness off. My wrist ached dully.
Sheppard tossed me a towel and crossed his arms in satisfaction. He looked past me and nodded. I turned to see that it was Matt he had nodded to. Matt had the football in hand. My confusion only built as the pack tumbled into Matt, bringing him to the ground. Jonathan caught my eye and began to extricate himself, but then the football was in his hand and everyone tackled him.
Kaylah took over for Sheppard at the grill and Sheppard joined the pack. Sighing, I toweled off m
y sleeve and gingerly sat in the chair. My leg actually wasn't hurting much, but I didn't want to chance anything.
Jonathan appeared with a soda in one hand and a beer in the other. He offered both to me. I took the beer. It had been one hell of a day.
“Me too,” he said as he exchanged the remaining soda for a beer as well. He only managed to get a single swig out of his beer before the football pegged him in the head. Jamie had a shit-eating grin, and Jonathan plopped his beer on the table, grabbed the ball from where it landed next to him, tossed it quick to Jamie, and then tackled his brother to the ground. It happened in kind of a blur, but they were both laughing, as were Ian and Daniel.
I laughed too and took a large gulp of my beer. It was bitter, but the cool felt nice as it slid into my belly.
I watched the game the wolves played. There certainly weren't teams, and no one kept any sort of score. Everyone just seemed to want to be rid of the ball as soon as they caught it. It was a letdown any time the ball hit the ground because someone didn't catch it. Chastity caught the ball next, and as the pack stalked her, she threw it to Matt. As before, the pack redirected, and Matt went down as the ball popped into the air. He snorted as he got up and jogged after Daniel, who had the ball and was looking for someone to throw it to. I finally started to grasp the game and found that I really wanted to play. Sheppard came up with the ball and suddenly, it was in my hands.
They all seemed to take a collective breath as my eyes widened. I tried to stand without the crutch. To my surprise, my leg held. It wasn't particularly steady, but it supported weight. Four days. Legs normally healed in what, months?
I took a few halting steps onto the grass. My leg wasn't arguing with me and I smiled to myself.
Matt moved toward me and the rest of the pack followed suit.
Like foolish prey, I started to jog, looking for someone to send the ball to. Daniel was out on his own. I tossed it his direction and the rest of the pack veered off toward the shed.
A Place to Run (Trials of the Blood Book 1) Page 5