by Dakota West
“Greta, I’m sorry, I’m sure he didn’t mean it—” Elliott started.
Greta cut him off.
“I don’t care if he meant it,” she said, feeling two hot, furious tears make their way down her cheeks. “He still fucking said it in front of the entire wolf pack. Like I’m a carton of milk getting close to its expiration date.”
“I’m sorry,” Shane said.
“And now everyone probably thinks I’m out here crying because all my eggs are slowly shriveling up or some shit,” she said, really getting on a roll. “Or because I think there’s no takers for my dad making it worth someone’s while to marry me and knock me up, because that’s all I am, some sad, pathetic spinster—”
“I don’t know anyone who thinks that,” Shane interjected.
Greta sighed.
“I mean, I’m brand new to the pack, but people only sort of laughed because he was the alpha,” Shane said.
Greta looked up at him, suspiciously.
“Seriously,” he said. “They kind of all exchanged looks like, what the hell is this guy talking about, you know?”
She sniffled.
“Go on,” she said.
“Everyone thinks of you as Greta the badass lady who owns the Tooth & Claw, not the single lady with no kids,” Elliott added.
“I still want to murder him,” she said.
“Fair,” said Elliott.
Shane reached out and grasped her shoulder, but Greta didn’t react at all.
“I’m gonna go for some wolf time, you guys,” she said.
“Want us to come?” Shane offered.
Greta just shook her head. “I need some alone time,” she told them.
“Are you sure?” Elliott said, looking a little concerned. “It’s no trouble at all, we—”
“I know what I want, and I want to be alone right now,” Greta snapped.
She regretted it instantly.
“I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “But I really just need some space, okay?”
“Okay,” said Elliott. Shane nodded.
Without saying anything else, Greta climbed into her car, started it, and drove out of the field, waving quickly at Shane and Elliott as she drove away.
She ended up driving around in her car for an hour, blasting the radio, just letting herself get angry and cry without having to think about whether anyone could see her or not.
Part of her regretted driving away from Elliott and Shane. That part of her desperately wished that she’d let them take her home, where she was totally certain they would have made her feel better, and fast. She couldn’t bring herself to it, though, not after her dad had basically offered her up to them on a platter.
He doesn’t even know Shane and Elliott, she thought, starting to get mad again. He was willing to just offer me to the next guy who came along, because apparently being over thirty and childless means I’m essentially worthless as a wolf.
She took another deep breath as the road blurred in front of her with even more furious tears. Everything that her parents had ever said to her was starting to rush back in an awful avalanche. When she’d started the bar, six years ago, they hadn’t seemed all that interested in her venture, but when she went on a single date with someone she didn’t like, they’d talked about it for weeks. At one point, even after Greta had made it clear that she did not want a second date, her mom had consoled her about the guy not calling back.
Greta stopped for a red light. There were no other cars, but she waited for a long time under the bright red light anyway. Then she made a left turn onto a paved road with no lines, the fastest way to her favorite trailhead and preferred place to shift.
You’re just different from them, she thought. You just want different things than your parents or your sister did, she told herself.
The thought felt like a revelation, and she couldn’t believe she’d never thought of it before.
You’re not them, she realized. They just think you are.
She parked, her headlights pointing into the woods, and stared.
It was so dead simple, and Greta started to feel a little better.
Maybe Shane and Elliott were right, she thought. Maybe everyone thinks of my dad the same way I do. A good leader, a decent alpha, but a guy who wouldn’t know a joke if it bit him on the ass.
Greta turned off her headlights and got out of the car, standing in the space between her door and the car. She undressed quickly, tossing all her clothes and shoes into the passenger side of her car, shaking her hair out.
Already she felt lighter, freer. She was still pissed at her dad for making fun of her in front of the entire pack, but it was easy to think he doesn’t understand. That didn’t make it better, but it gave her a place to start, to work from.
Greta shivered in the cool night air, the gravel of the small parking lot cold beneath her toes. She took her car key off of her keyring, shut the door, locked it, and carefully balanced the key on top of the wheel.
I wonder if Calder had this moment, she thought. Maybe he didn’t, and that’s why he left.
Without thinking more, she shifted, letting her fur and teeth and claws come out, the ground rushing up toward her, the smells and sounds of the forest sharpening.
Then she trotted into the woods, tail wagging, complicated thoughts about families and ambitions and life plans all going blissfully silent.
Chapter Ten
Elliott
Elliott didn’t even have to look at Shane to know his mate was furious. He could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, the bitter smell of it practically pumping through his veins.
“Who says that about their own kid?” Shane asked, his teeth gritted.
“Don’t tell me your mom doesn’t bother you for grandkids,” Elliott said. “You know mine does.”
“They don’t tell an entire pack full of strangers that they think you’re inadequate,” Shane said. “No wonder her brother ran away.”
“Come on,” Elliott said. “He made a terrible joke, I don’t think he meant to hurt Greta’s feelings that much.”
Shane just looked at him, and Elliott could see the pure fire in his eyes.
“Don’t go easy on him just because he’s your alpha,” Shane said, his voice suddenly quiet and dangerous. “This is why I was nervous about joining a pack, because I don’t want to just go along with how everyone feels all the time.”
Elliott rolled his eyes.
“I’m not following some kind of wolf groupthink,” he said.
First Greta drives off, now Shane is giving me shit about belonging to a pack, he thought.
“It’s not groupthink to realize that sometimes people make jokes that aren’t funny,” Elliott said, starting to walk back toward the barn.
Shane didn’t follow him, and after half a dozen steps, Elliott turned to look at his mate.
“Is that really what you think?” Shane asked. “That this is just about a joke not being funny?”
Elliott felt caught off-guard and off-balance, and for just a moment he closed his eyes. He’d wanted to come back to the pack and find a bunch of like-minded people who’d be almost as close as family. Instead, there was this.
Finally, Shane walked toward him.
“This isn’t about whether or not Charles can tell jokes,” Shane said quietly. “This is about the fact that he thinks Greta’s only good for getting married and having babies.”
“He doesn’t really think that,” Elliott said, lamely.
Even as he said it, he knew he didn’t believe it. For eighteen years he’d belonged to the pack, and despite himself, he’d soaked in their backwards views on everything. Quickly, he flipped through a mental list of everything that he’d heard Charles say, everything he’d heard his parents say.
“You’ve been lying to these people for years about a huge accomplishment in your life,” Shane said, his voice low and dangerous. “Because you’re afraid that they’ll do exactly t
he same thing to you that Greta’s dad just did to her. They’ll tell you that having a PhD is nice and all, but you should really be out there on the farm, baling hay and not acting like you think you’re above your station.”
Elliott felt trapped. In that moment, he knew that Shane was right, but he could feel his wolf rising in anger.
Then Shane looked away, into the barn behind Elliott.
“I’m afraid of losing you,” he said. He clenched his jaw, then relaxed, and Elliott could see his fists balling and unballing next to his sides. “I don’t want us to join this wolf pack and for you to decide that all this weirdo stuff that made you special isn’t worth it because you’d rather have other wolves like you. They didn’t like you before, Elliott, and they’re not going to like you now just because you grew up. You’re still you, and you’re still not like them, and that’s what they don’t like.”
Before Elliott could respond, he heard his mother shouting his name, and looked up at the barn doors. She stood there, waving at the two of them.
“If you don’t want to join the pack, just say it,” Elliott said. “If you don’t want to, we don’t do it.”
Shane shook his head, and Elliott could see his face soften.
“I know how much this means to you,” he said. “Don’t trust them too much, and don’t take their opinions too much into account, okay?”
Elliott closed his eyes and tried to let his irritation with his mate simmer down. He hated it when they argued and Shane was right, and no matter how much he wanted Shane to be wrong right now, he knew that he wasn’t.
“Your mom’s coming over here,” Shane said, and Elliott opened his eyes. Then he sighed.
“You’ll have to tell them someday,” Shane said.
“Not today,” Elliott said.
“Come inside,” Elliott’s mom said. “There’s a bunch of people I want you to meet. A couple girls, even!” she said brightly.
Not interested, thought Elliott. He thought briefly of Greta, driving away in her car somewhere, probably halfway to shifting already.
Instead, he put on a smile and glanced over at Shane.
“Sure,” he said.
Elliott mostly tuned his mom out, giving whoever she was introducing him to the usual smile and nod combination. Some of them looked vaguely familiar, some of them didn’t, and more than one offered to set Elliott and Shane up with their twenty-three-year-old daughters.
Was it always like this? Elliott started wondering. Were people always offering up their barely-adult daughters for the sake of getting them married and having kids?
They were introducing themselves to yet another triad with a daughter, when Elliott heard someone call his name from behind them.
It was the wrong name. His heart plummeted in his chest.
“Professor Whiting!” a woman called. It was the woman who’d been in his Latin class earlier that day. He knew it without even turning around, and instantly, he wished that he could somehow take back the entire class, go back to that point in time and say please, act like you don’t know me if I ever see you outside class.
For the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he hadn’t done that.
Elliott didn’t turn around. He pretended not to hear.
For a moment, it worked, and then his mom steered him and Shane away from the person they’d been talking to and, suddenly, he was face to face with Tamara.
“I thought that was you,” she said.
Then the man she was standing with turned to face Shane and Elliott, and Elliott’s fists clenched involuntarily.
It was Zeke.
Of course it is, thought Elliot. Because nothing can ever be simple.
“Hi,” he said, at a loss for what else to say.
“Welcome to the pack,” Tamara said brightly. “I’m so glad you joined, we’ve really been needing some fresh blood.”
“How do you two know each other?” Zeke asked, his eyes narrowing, and his heavy brow beginning to frown.
“Professor Whiting teaches my intro to Latin class at Cascadia State,” Tamara said.
A kid, maybe seven or eight, came over and leaned against her side.
“I’m bored,” the kid said, making sad eyes up at her.
“Ten more minutes, honey,” she said, petting his hair.
“Elliott teaches Latin?” Zeke asked.
His eyes lit up in a way that Elliott absolutely hated, and for a split second, he felt like he was being punched outside the doors of Rustvale High again.
“I’m pretty sure your mom told me you were managing a ranch the next county up,” he said. “Something with horses, she said?”
He started to smile nastily, and Elliott could almost feel himself break out in a cold sweat.
Stop it, he thought. You could kick his ass. You know you could.
Elliott just shrugged. He had no idea what to say, and Tamara was just looking at him sort of strangely.
“Do you just teach part-time?” she asked.
“What are you teaching, honey?” Elliot’s mom joined in, her voice behind him.
Elliott felt boxed in. His wolf started to growl and snap at memories of being surrounded by a group of huge, hulking shifters during lunch break.
That was when they’d liked to beat him up, all those years ago. They’d find an empty hallway, then drag him out there, surround him, and take turns punching him in the belly.
“He’s teaching Latin,” said Zeke. His voice was vicious, and Elliott could see all his teeth, his smile turning awful. “At the college.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” his mom said. “It’s nice that you kept up with that. You always did like your Latin classes in high school.”
He looked at Tamara, her face frozen in surprise.
I’m sorry, she mouthed, but Elliott just shook his head, his wolf pricking at the inside of his skin, practically begging to get out and tear all these humans to pieces before they could even blink.
“The guys are gonna be thrilled to hear that you kept up with your studies,” Zeke said, that same vicious smile still on his stupid face.
Once, in high school, a teacher had come across Elliott getting beaten up in the hallway. She’d sent all the other boys back to class with a light scolding, then patted Elliott on the shoulder and told him that he needed to stand up for himself more. Elliott hadn’t bothered explaining that he’d tried and found it useless.
Not anymore, Elliott thought.
“I’m an associate professor at Cascadia State,” he said, standing up straight. “That’s why I moved back.”
“I thought you got a job on a ranch?” his mom said, seeming more confused than anything.
“He was so ashamed that he lied about it!” Zeke crowed. “Once a fucking dork, always a—”
Shane’s fist caught Zeke squarely in the nose, and Zeke stumbled backward, clutching at his face.
It took him half a second to shift, but Shane was already a wolf and lunged for the other wolf’s throat. Tamara’s kid screamed and hid behind her.
“Hey!” Tamara shouted, though she gave them a wide berth.
Everyone gave them a wide berth, except Elliott, who leapt in, grabbing Shane and pulling him back, shouting the entire time.
Then everyone stepped back, and suddenly, Charles walked up to the fighting wolves.
“Knock it off,” he boomed.
Zeke hesitated, and Shane looked from the other wolf to the alpha. Elliott could tell that he was still thinking about attacking, even with the alpha there, but then Shane looked at him.
Please don’t do this, Elliott thought. Please, for me.
Zeke sat, still baring his teeth, and Shane did too.
“If you’re going to do this shit, do it somewhere else,” Charles said, pointing at Zeke.
“And you,” he said to Shane. “If this is how you are, you can go join another pack.”
Elliott stepped forward and opened his mouth to apologize for his mate.
Then he shut it
and just stared at the alpha, feeling Shane’s wolf eyes on him.
Be on Shane’s side here, he reminded himself. He’s more important than the pack.
“Let’s go,” he said to his mate, and then turned to leave.
Chapter Eleven
Shane
For the second time in a few days, Shane trotted after his mate, still in his wolf form. This time, though, he wasn’t sorry at all. Zeke had totally and completely deserved to get punched right in the face.
I’d do it again, thought Shane. I’d do it twenty more times. He can’t talk to Elliott that way.
He shifted back to human and got into the car, in the passenger seat, while Elliott got behind the wheel. Shane could see one vein pulse in his mate’s face. Elliott was just as pissed as the last time that he’d tried to beat up Zeke.
The difference was now Shane was pissed too.
“You can’t go around punching everyone in heRustvale every time something happens that you don’t like,” Elliott said.
“Not everyone,” retorted Shane. “Just Zeke, because he’s an asshole.”
“You could have cost us our place in the pack!” Elliott said. He hit one fist against the steering wheel with so much force that the frame of the car shook.
“You mean the pack that wants all its women pregnant and its men doing manual labor jobs only?” Shane said, feeling his own white-hot rage begin to boil over inside him. “The pack where the alpha offered to sell his daughter to someone thirty minutes ago, because apparently it’s so horrible to be single and childless when you’re all of thirty?”
“You don’t understand packs because you never had one,” retorted Elliott. “Just because your parents were weird outcasts doesn’t mean that you have to be.”
“Don’t drag them into this,” said Shane.
Elliott still hadn’t started the car.
“You think you’re too good for the pack,” said Elliott, viciously. “You’ve got some lone wolf fantasy about Shane, the cowboy, out alone on the range and he doesn’t need anyone but himself.”