I snorted. Ilume gave me a funny look but didn’t comment. “Why do you call us mortals? Are you guys immortal or something?” I asked her.
Wouldn’t that be a discovery? Faeries and elves were the only things on record that came close to the description of immortal. Even then, certain breeds of them still died after so many hundreds of years.
“We call you mortals because you are normal. Simple. Human.” She shrugged. “Apparently we use the word a little differently than you do.”
“Why were you in Loralin?” It was the first time I thought to ask this question.
Her face turned cold. “That’s not for you to worry about.” Stretching, she rolled off the mattress. “We’ll play more of Twenty Questions later, mortal. I’m starving and it’s getting close to dinner time. I’m sure you’re hungry. You’ve been out for over a day.”
My brows shot up. “You knocked me out for a day?”
“Didn’t mean to.” She shrugged again, this time all innocent-like. “Come on. I’d rather you be in the kitchen now versus later. The rest of the pack will be home from hunting soon. I want you out of sight by then.”
“Fine with me.” I wasn’t all that enthused about meeting more wolves to snarl and bare their teeth at me. Rolling to my feet, I became Ilume’s shadow as we entered the hallway, wondering what the next twenty-four hours would bring.
Chapter Twelve—Ilume
I would never tell anyone just how much he fascinated me.
Of course, Jared annoyed me too with his persistent questions and such. I was afraid to tell him more than he needed to know. Pack info was strictly confidential, most of it. It had been pounded into our heads since childhood not to reveal anything to anyone, especially a human. However, after Fox had nearly dragged him out to his death, I had a feeling my new pet would keep quiet should I blow any secrets.
That night, Jared cooked the raw rabbit I gave him. It was the first time I’d seen someone reel at the sight of raw, bloody meat—the very thing my pack drooled over. One palm over his nose, he plucked the slab out of my hand and dropped it in the sink. What is he doing? He washed it, holding his breath, then dug around the cabinets until he found our one and only frying pan.
I leaned against the back counter, watching the meat sizzle and turn colors on the stove. I guess I’d have to start watching the Food Channel if I was going to keep him. I’d forgotten how delicate the human stomach is, how their system doesn’t burn bacteria and disease like ours.
At the smell of cooking meat—and fresh human—pack members appeared, shooting me displeased looks. Every time I turned around someone was peering over the edge of a couch or standing in the lower hallway, tight-jawed. I had to flash my fangs and growl to make them turn away.
They’d never looked at me like this before. My status as alpha female was taking a serious hit. I’m not sure why I risked their trust in me, other than I knew he could help us. I would make Jared into a weapon against the Jackals, the pack who so desperately wanted our territory. My dislike for the punk had dissolved when I realized that, because of his talents, we might still have a chance to find the Jackals and stop a war.
My stomach clenched. Thoughts of the Jackals brought up thoughts of Thagen, the frosty look he’d given me in the club. You either find another home to settle into, or you die in the spar it will create. His words haunted me. They haunted me almost as much as his goodbye.
I don’t love you anymore.
Sleep was near impossible that night. Besides the fact that I laid awake thinking of Thagen, Jared snored so loudly one could’ve heard him from Asia. He had the pitch of a motorcycle, and at one point I got so fed up that I launched a throw pillow at his head.
“Hey,” he mumbled, stirring on the floor.
“Roll over and shut up or go outside,” I said, pointing at the door. “You’re worse than someone with nasal polyps, you know that?”
“Oh, bah.” He muttered something to himself then rolled onto his stomach, pulling the blanket up to his ears.
I flopped back down, letting my hair spill over the pillows. Moonlight seeped through the curtains, turning the room silver like my sheets. So beautiful, I thought. The moon was my peacemaker, my guide. It was the only thing that called to me besides the howl of my wolves, and I answered every time.
Rolling the covers back, I slid out of bed. The French doors squeaked, but Jared barely moved as they closed behind me. The balcony floor felt like ice beneath my feet. I walked to the railing where I had a perfect view of the mountains beside the woods.
A half moon lounged atop the trees, no longer orange and full like it had been. The autumn equinox was near, the leaves slowly turning red and yellow. I shivered. It was brisk for a late summer evening. I feared another cold winter ahead.
Thagen loved autumn. I wanted to hit myself for thinking that, for now I visualized his dusty fur. When fall comes, Thagen’s brown coat turns coppery. When the pack was still one, he would be gone all day long, reveling in the cool weather.
He had followed me on the autumn equinox two years ago. I had gone for a run to the river; too busy hunting to notice his presence. I transitioned as I hit the lake, covered in sweat and in need of a bath. I hated trying to shower at home, for someone always wanted the bathroom. Thinking there was no one around, I dove in, the water cold and refreshing.
When I surfaced, Thagen appeared a few feet in front of me. He suppressed a grin as I gasped. His cheeks bobbed in and out of the water. “If the Jackals tried to attack us, all we’d have to do is have you transition,” he said. “Your pretty little behind would make quite the distraction.”
“Oh my God,” I had groaned, rolling my eyes. I tried not to blush. “Thagen, you pervert! Did you follow me here? Jeez, stop treating me like a juicy steak. I hate it!”
“I tried not to drool.”
“Ugh, you’re impossible.” With that I swiveled around, making a beeline for the old dock. Even under the water, I could feel my body temperature raging. I was not in the mood to deal with his jokes.
I surfaced, clinging to one of the dock’s legs. Not a second later he popped up on the other side, throwing back his sun-streaked hair. He grinned that perfect smile he’s always had then laughed. “Why do you always run from me?” he asked. “What? Do I really look like I’m going to eat you, my juicy steak?”
“Occasionally, yes, you do.”
I slid further around the corner, trying to hide my bare skin from view. I guess it didn’t matter anymore. He’d just seen everything—which Rex would totally kill him for if he found out. At the time, I knew Rex liked me, and there were whispers about him choosing me for a mate.
Seeing my unease, Thagen quit teasing. His face softened. Slowly, he reached up and ran two fingers along my cheek. I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t. His touch left a strange, buzzing sensation under my skin.
“You know I mean you no harm, Ilume,” he whispered. “Honestly, I mean you quite the opposite.”
“I,” I trailed off, tensing up as I realized what was about to happen.
Leaning across his side of the post, he kissed me. His lips were wet, frozen from the lake water, but it didn’t matter. Fireworks went off in my head, burning up logical thought. This boy was supposed to be my sister’s. I’d told her she could have him. She talked about him like a human girl babbled about a celebrity.
His hand lightly brushed my arm, sliding down until our fingers locked together. I forgot about my sister’s love-struck antics—infatuation wasn’t love anyway. Sliding my fingers around his neck, I pulled him closer, knowing I could never tell anyone that I’d just made out with Rex’s rival and my sister’s mate-to-be.
I tuned back in to reality. Wet lines streaked my face, tears blurring my vision. My mother—being the only one to discover our affair—told me I’d done the right th
ing, letting Thagen go and keeping my promise to Leslie. But now, once again, I wasn’t sure. Leslie and I had never been very close. She’d been raised with wolf pups her age and formed bonds with them instead of me. I did love her, but my love for Thagen, her bronze wolf, had run deep.
I had been waiting for the meeting with Thagen to truly take effect on me. And now that I was home, in the place we both belonged with his image fresh in mind, it did. It was terrifying to know how love can be flipped upside down, leaving you with so much pain. So much hate. I did, I hated him.
I hated him for making me fall in love with him.
Chapter Thirteen—Jared
Hey. Hey! Oh my goodness, will you wake up?”
“What you want?” I grumbled, feeling someone shake me.
A blast of cold air went through my clothes as the blanket disappeared. I gasped, curling into a ball. “Hey, what the hell!”
“Come on, get up. It’s way past your breakfast time.”
I groaned, peeling back an eyelid. “Is this going to be a routine with you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know, this whole I’m-the-bitch thing—ouch!”
In the speed of light, she’d raveled up my blanket and snapped me across the face. I rolled toward the wall, covering my cheek, spewing cuss words.
“Don’t ever use that word in this house again,” she said. “Be thankful that was just a warning. If it’d been anyone else who heard you say it, you’d have lost fingers or toes.”
“Oh, I hate you so much right now,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t forget who saved your life, kid. Now up, up.” She clapped her hands. “I’ll get you food and then you can start the list.”
“List?” I stared at her. Why didn’t I like the sound of that?
“If you’re going to stay here, you’re going to make yourself useful to me.”
I rolled my eyes. Now I was the werewolf’s slave? That was the price for saving my life?
After cooking myself another dry piece of rabbit, Ilume shooed the wolves out of the living room. They snapped and snarled as they went, not pleased about being disconnected from the TV. I counted them as they dispersed upstairs and down the hall—only five this morning. When I asked Ilume about it, she said most of the pack was out hunting or working.
Apparently the pack was split into three groups: the hunters, the workers, and the caretakers. Hunters gathered food. They caught the rabbits, deer, and salmon that took up most of the fridge. During the right seasons, they gathered fruits, berries, and nuts as well. Their travels also made them guardians of the home front, keeping an eye out for danger, fighting off rivals.
Workers were the somewhat normal ones of the pack. They held real jobs outside the mansion in small towns bordering the woods. They made money for the pack, turning over seventy percent of their profits to Rex. Sometimes they were the monitors. Spending most of their time among the humans, they could listen to the daily gossip, make sure no one was hiking where they weren’t supposed to, and watch out for threats like poachers. Because the journey to town and back was long and dangerous, workers only came home on the weekends. Ilume wouldn’t elaborate on what kind of danger when I asked.
Lastly, there were the caretakers. Most of them were women, anywhere from ages fifteen to fifty. They played the role of nurses and nanas, looking after the elderly, healing injuries, helping new mothers with their pups.
“We need more of caretakers,” Ilume explained. She was under the staircase, struggling to get an old vacuum out of the downstairs closet. “Later this week I’ll send you in to help Fawn.”
“Help care-take?” I didn’t hide my dislike. “I thought the point of me being active during hunting hours was so the wolves didn’t see me.”
“The hunters won’t see you. That’s the important part.”
With a final yank, the vacuum popped out of the closet. Ilume stumbled backward. On reflex, I reached out to catch her. Her hand hit my chest as she caught her balance. We both straightened up, blushing as we looked away from each other.
“Um, anyway, here you go.” She pushed the thing toward me. “Vacuum the living room first, then the kitchen tile.”
She disappeared down the hall. “Wolves,” I scoffed.
Dragging the old dirt-sucker into the living room, I hunted for an electrical outlet. One hid behind the leather couch, but the cloud of cobwebs—most holding dead things—hanging between the back of the couch and the wall made me iffy. Something black skittered into the shadows, something that looked like a spider the size of my hand.
Not happening.
I settled on the outlet behind the television. Standing up, I kicked the vacuum back. It squeaked like a door hinge, the bag drooping toward the floor. Using my big toe, I pressed the button. The thing roared to life, sucking up dirt like Peter sucked up a peanut butter malt. Threading the cord through one hand, I pushed the monster around the room, under the coffee table, around couches and chairs. It was a heavy pain in the ass, and it wasn’t long before my triceps started to ache. In minutes the floor began to change color. I realized the carpet wasn’t grey—it was soft blue.
I was two-thirds of the way done when the vacuum stopped picking things up. “Ah, crap,” I grumbled, kicking the button again. The monster fell silent. Turning it over, I searched the main airway. Something was probably lodged inside. Maybe that mega spider had left the couch.
I was picking at the wheels when footsteps caught my ear.
Aspen leaned against the counter, a Gatorade bottle in hand. He smirked. “That thing hasn’t been emptied in months,” he said. “Probably needs a new bag.”
I tried not to glower. Seriously, did he have to stand there and watch me make a loser of myself? Rocking to my feet, I went to the closet and found another bag.
Aspen snorted as I unzipped the ugly plaid cloth. I tried to ignore him. It was better to be viewed as a fool than an enemy at this point. I reached inside to pull out the puffed-up paper bag. It wouldn’t come loose. Frustrated, I yanked hard.
A loud ripping sound echoed through the air. In a puff of dog hair and dust, the bag exploded. I jumped back from the cloud, coughing and waving my hands. Dirt slid off my jeans, down through my toes.
Aspen let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, dude.”
“Ah, shit.” I pulled on the hem of my shirt. My favorite blue O’Neill tee was ruined.
Shaking his head, Aspen headed toward the stairs.
Temper in check, I shoved the vacuum over, the rest of the bag’s contents spilling on the floor. Ridiculous. Men were not made to vacuum carpets—that’s the woman’s job. Now I saw why guys got married. Men work and hunt to bring home the bacon. We do the dangerous stuff, the moneymaking stuff while the women cook and clean.
Aspen hopped back down the stairs, a grey and black wad in his hands. “Here,” he said, chucking the wad at me.
I caught it with one hand. As it unrolled, a pair of shorts fell out on the floor, an Element tee hanging between my fingers.
“They should fit.” Aspen pushed open the screen door, adding, “I’d recommend you save them for after cleaning.”
“Thanks,” I said before the door swung shut behind him. The porch steps lurched as he trotted down, heading into the woods.
Aspen had seemed pretty willing to hand me over to Rex yesterday. Was the clothing a way of saying “Hey, you lived, we’re square”?
Or maybe it was more like “Hey, fool, I feel bad for you. Take the clothes since you ain’t going to last long and I’ll get them back anyway.”
Setting the clothes on the television, I returned to the vacuum, thinking about escape. A good plan would take time to create. First you have to learn your surroundings. When Ilume or whoever took me into the woods, I would learn my surroundings whil
e tracking the—what were they? The Jackals? You need a compass. I knew home was south-bound, but if I got a hold of a map I could plot our location, find the nearest town.
I needed to get close to one of the workers. They would know the nearby towns and roads. The next time they came home, I could track their scent trails.
Perfect.
I saw a white piece of paper taped to the freezer door, titled JARED in big, bold letters. As I started on the list, washing dishes and scrubbing the repulsive kitchen floor, my plan came together. Getting out of the house would be the hard part.
I finished the first floor by mid-afternoon. I put away the dishes, scrubbed the sink, took out the garbage—a very gross job involving sour meat. I cleaned the tile floor until it was spotless. Using duct tape I pulled all the hair off the couches and pillows. The wolves better be happy. This was a damn good job for a guy who doesn’t even clean his own bedroom.
I moved upstairs, armed with a bottle of bleach and rubber gloves. Occasionally, Mom made me clean the bathroom at home, but I would choose dishes, laundry, anything over cleaning our bathroom.
When I made it back home, I would never complain again. The wolves’ bathroom made ours look like a five-star hotel.
Once upon a time, the bathtub had been white. Now, the sides were stained yellow, and the bottom was a breeding ground for daddy-long-legs. Heavy mineral deposits lined the sink and knobs. Ilume was right: the young wolves did scent mark their territory.
This particular job needed a lot more than bleach. And I needed some Advil. The scent of wolf urine had triggered another headache.
“Jared?”
I startled awake, opening my eyes. Ilume’s bare feet appeared in front of me. I followed them up her body until we were staring at each other. She blinked down at me. I shrunk back, figuring she was mad that I came and crashed after finishing the list.
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