Odd Wolf

by Virginia Nelson

  She nodded, but otherwise she simply sat back on her haunches and waited. He went in, ordered sandwiches and fried pickles for each of them while only glancing out the front window a few hundred times to make sure she still waited for him. Food in bags, he headed out to find an older couple considering the wolf sitting on the sidewalk patiently.

  “Sir, is this your dog?” the old man asked.

  Glancing down at the wolf, he shrugged. “Yeah, sure. She’s mine.”

  He couldn’t hold back his grin when Dara’s eyes went to slits.

  “She should be on a leash and you should be ashamed of yourself for leaving alone outside. What kind of pet owner are you?” The old man whacked him with a newspaper.

  Lynwood chewed on the inside of his lip to hold back his laughter, but it erupted when the wife bent low to pet Dara. “Oh, you’re a pretty girl, aren’t you? She’s so well behaved.”

  The alpha didn’t snap or do more than roll her eyes, a practice in more patience than he’d seen her display so far. Because of this, Lynwood figured he should get them both out of there before her temper frayed. “She is. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home so we can have a bite of lunch…”

  Nose high in the air and irritation in her every step, the wolf set off for his apartment. He was pleased her stride seemed a bit better, temper driven or not, but she still favored the right side a bit. When she glanced back at him, he shrugged. He covered his concern with playful flirting. “Can’t blame a fellow for checking out your ass when you have such a lovely one, Alpha sweetheart.”

  He wasn’t sure why he kept ribbing her, either, but couldn’t resist. Dara fascinated him as none ever had before her. Simply the scent of her made his wolf want to roll and coat himself in her smell. She was fantastic, his little Alpha sweetheart.

  Another human stopped their progress, yet another do-gooder who wanted to know why she wasn’t on a leash and Lynwood bent low, rubbing Dara’s head while he explained he didn’t need one. The man continued his advice, but Lynwood couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to answer. Her fur was so warm under his hands, he couldn’t resist digging his fingertips deeper to her undercoat to feel her warmth seep into his palms. He’d never seen a wolf as beautiful as her, with eyes he could look into for hours without worrying for a second he’d tire of the exercise. Since she allowed the touch—no doubt because it might make the human go away—he reveled in the chance to hold her. To touch her.

  To breathe her deep into his lungs.

  To claim this woman would be an adventure worth fighting for.

  The thought jarred him and he jerked away from her, dropping their lunch. Her tilted head said she didn’t know what his problem was, so he fumbled to pick the bag back up and then set off at a jog to his apartment. Once inside, he locked the door, then set the food out on the coffee table where she’d have no problem reaching it if she stayed on four legs.

  Task completed, he went to his bedroom and locked the door. Leaning on it, he realized he fought every single instinct he possessed to stay away from her. Wolf and man both wanted to be near her, to smell her, to touch her if she allowed it.

  Mate.

  A brand, the word sizzled his flesh and left behind the stink of burnt fur. He’d not come so far to get bound to another pack. Claiming Dara meant accepting her world, her order, her pack.

  Something he refused to do.

  ***

  “How many times do I have to say I’m fine and I was busy before you drop it?” If the question came out terse, she didn’t care. Charley, not used to her popping off the map for days, refused to stop asking. Besides his litany of concern, her head ached. Knives of pain seemed to radiate from her eye sockets to the stem of her spine, nauseating her. With each step, it seemed she only drove the hot brand of spiking pain deeper into her skull.

  “You never lose contact with me for long, Dara. I get it. As alpha, you have to be big and badass and show no weakness, but we’re people, too. I’ve been your friend and stood by your side for years. I think I deserve more than the company line.” Charley ducked his head, not trying to meet her eyes as he delivered his speech, giving physical testament to his words with his utter lack of challenge.

  Stopping, she dragged a hand through her hair. Nothing went the way it was supposed to this past week or so and she was sick of it all. “I promise, if it wasn’t fine, I’d tell you. I have things under control.”

  Charley’s sigh said he didn’t necessarily believe her, but he let the issue drop. “Okay, well, I don’t like us meeting this deep in the woods, if we’re changing the topic.”

  “Also not your choice.” Dara shrugged. “You’d have me fear our own pack, now?”

  “They’re not crazy about the high council meetings.”

  He meant nobody was pleased when she’d taken a seat on the high council. As a rule, werewolves ruled the shifter community. Some cities, however, were creating councils to combat situations similar to the ones happening in Ashtabula—namely, other flavors of creatures didn’t shift skins but carried more nefarious powers encroaching on what had long been pack lands. Since the local population consisted of many other creatures for as long as anyone could remember, from the fairy mound on the south side of town to the various creatures in Lake Erie, the wolves in northern Ohio weren’t new to living in peace alongside unusual neighbors.

  But things were changing, and Dara figured if creatures who shed their skins could unite under any common flag, it would be the defense of their kind against Other.

  If the pack didn’t support her choice, however…

  “This still isn’t a democracy, Charley.” With those words, she jogged ahead of him—headache thumping in time with her footfalls—and entered the circle of wolves who waited. “Good evening, friends.”

  Greetings were murmured around the circle and she made the point of staring down each of her lieutenants before taking her seat to the north of the ring. Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she listened to the various complaints, reports and other pack business. Responding when needed, she kept her head held high and her shoulders back.

  The nausea wasn’t abating, though, and her skin crawled with invisible fire. But the flames were chased by chills before she could focus on them and altogether…

  “Dara, we’ve felt weak. It is as if something is draining us via the pack bonds. Have you felt it too, or is it some kind of sickness draining our people?” Eddie asked.

  Considering the small male, Dara chose her words carefully. “I will look into it further. For now, everyone moves in pairs and, when the feeling happens, all of my people should do their best to resist allowing their strength to leech through the bonds. Use every barrier, every block you have to use to keep safe. If it means temporarily blocking me out, do it, but—”

  “But, what?” Eddie leaned forward. “The bonds are what keeps us connected. It isn’t as if those who are stronger mind sharing if someone needs the help. We want to know who is requiring the additional energy so we can help them, Alpha. Not so we can stop helping in what little way we are.”

  “Says you,” Carmen added. “Personally, I have no desire to share my strength with someone else. I want the draining to stop.”

  Dara nodded. “I said I would look into it. Were there any other issues to be presented, or shall we close this meeting?”

  No sooner did the meeting end than she transformed, heading into the night on four paws. Maybe she’d need to stay at the rogue’s home for a bit longer. It seemed perhaps her strength wasn’t as returned as she’d hoped.

  Because giving any other explanation to her weakness was beyond unacceptable.

  If the black flying creature wounded her and those wounds were draining her pack, could it have been some kind of intentional poisoning? She’d thought the attack likely the work of some opportunist, some creature who stumbled across her and tried to kill her.

  But what if the creature chose her because she was alpha and now used her ties to her people to poison t
hem?

  Her pulse throbbed, her head ached, and she headed to Lynwood’s apartment to do some research. After all, if it was happening to her and her people, no doubt it happened before…

  Then again, it wasn’t as if she could google energy stealing black bird of death, could she?

  ***

  Flipping pancakes, Lynwood hummed to himself. On another grill, he removed sizzling sausage links and patties in a neat stack with his spatula before splashing water on the black surface. Scraping away grease and pieces of meat, he then slapped down more patties. Though he moved through the motions, filling the orders hanging above his head for the waiting customers, his mind was elsewhere.

  Plating up a couple specials, he remembered the smell of her, more tempting than anything he could possibly serve up in this small diner. He hadn’t showered—a luxury to ensure he’d wear her scent a little longer—and ignored his logical side.

  She’d been lovely naked, more beautiful than he could’ve guessed she’d be although the red marks tracing along her side scored him. The white hot fury the sight of those injuries inspired in him…

  But those breasts. What if he’d reached up and grabbed them? What if she’d relaxed into his touch instead of rolling off him? Would her mouth have tasted like her scent, all drenched in desire and drugging? Maybe she’d dig those delicate nails into his skin, pulling him closer to her hot little body.

  After almost burning the pancakes, he plated them and hoped who ever ordered them wouldn’t return the breakfast for being overdone. He shouldn’t be fantasizing about Dara at work or anywhere for that matter. If she was his mate—an illogical possibility, since what twisted universe would mate one of the rarest of his kind, a female alpha, with a rogue? Regardless, he couldn’t risk being with her. If she blinded him to reason by being nearby, what temptation would her touch offer? Could he sink deep into her body without claiming her, if she was truly his mate?

  Gritting his teeth, he poured more batter on the grill surface and watched bubbles pop from the heat. She was pack, and she would remain pack. Her people shaped who she was as a woman and a wolf, every decision she made vetted based on whether or not it was good for her people, and she’d no more leave them behind to wander with him than he’d accept the shackles of pack life.

  As if summoned by the thought of pack, he picked up the scent of another wolf. Spinning, he faced the tables visible through the small window to the rest of the diner. Though he couldn’t see the other wolf, he knew one or more was near. The aroma of wolf was unmistakable, even occluded by the many humans and food. “Hey, Duff, I’m taking my break.”

  The other man grunted, moving away from the sinks while snagging a towel to dry his hands. Once Duffy stood before the grill, squinting at the green and white, lined paper orders hanging above the window to the diner, Lynwood shot out the back door and into the alley.

  He hadn’t asked Dara what she wanted him to do if pack came to him, only agreed to stay away from them. Surely she couldn’t blame him if they came to his work and he was on the clock?

  Though he wouldn’t bet she’d let him explain. Dara struck him as a take action and ask questions afterward kind of woman. After the time they’d spent together, maybe especially because of those stolen moments, he’d place money on her blaming him rather than listening to reason.

  Considering his best course of action, he wasn’t paying attention to the mouth of the alley. At least he hadn’t been until the two men blocked him into the dead end space between two brick buildings, anyway.

  “Hey, hi.” The words were lame, rocks he threw out hoping they’d somehow become buoyant and float when he knew they wouldn’t.

  As they approached, he gritted his teeth. He recognized the one guy from his first encounter with the local pack. After Dara’s private interrogation, he’d ‘escorted’ Lynwood back to his apartment—not looking pleased with his Alpha’s choice, but seemingly obedient anyway. Charley, Dara called him, if memory served.

  “We have questions, Pierce.” Charley pulled a fingernail file out of his hoodie pocket. With a snick of sound, he released only his claws—something it took a hell of a lot of power to do without fully transforming, but didn’t make a snick noise.

  “Did you just make the noise…like the comic book guy played in the movies by the one actor who sings?” For a moment, Lynwood wished he could take the words back. Probably riling the wolves wasn’t a great idea. Besides…whatever. So, the guy wanted to make superhero noises and sharpen his claws. Lynwood met stranger people over the years, so who was he to judge?

  The other wolf didn’t answer, continuing to file in an unconcerned way while the man with him snickered. “He always does that. Well, ever since those movies came out…”

  “That last one, though?” Lynwood blurted. “I mean, it was pretty bad.”

  “Right? I’m always telling Charley that—”

  “If you’re done, we’re here on pack business, Greg.” Charley didn’t look amused by the turn of conversation.

  Greg, a skinny Asian looking guy, straightened up and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, boss.”

  “Where is Dara?” Charley asked.

  “I don’t know.” One question he could answer safely. If the other man asked about her injuries, though, Lynwood wouldn’t answer him. Whether or not it got his ass kicked, if Dara hadn’t told the other wolf about her attack, Lynwood wasn’t leaking the information, either.

  “Don’t bother to lie, rogue. I can smell her on you.”

  Fisting his hands, he castigated himself for abject stupidity. One shower. If he’d taken five damned minutes out to take a shower, the conversation would have gone entirely differently.

  He didn’t want to wash her off, though. He might not be able to satisfy the illogical need to be with her, but he could keep this one fragment of her for a while longer. “I don’t know where she is now. She was with me, but now she’s not.”

  “Are you dating her or something?” Greg asked, earning a nudge from Charley. “What?”

  “If he is, and if she’d wanted us to know, she’d have told us,” Charley pointed out.

  “Well, for him to smell so strongly of her…” Greg tapered off, shooting another glance at Lynwood.

  “When did you last see her?” Charley asked, still filing away.

  “Yesterday.” Last night, he thought, but didn’t say it out loud, figuring it would add fuel to the dating fire if he phrased it wrong. Although he wanted nothing more than their alpha squirming beneath him, Charley was right.

  It wasn’t any of their damned business.

  “Look, I’m going to be really honest with you.” Another snick and the nails vanished. Charley stowed his file in his pocket and closed the distance between them, coming eye to eye with him.

  Lynwood looked down. He wasn’t a dominant wolf, and Charley, comic book weirdness aside, was second in command to a very powerful alpha. Regardless of his desire to meet the other man’s gaze squarely, to show his honesty with his unflinching gaze, his wolf demanded he show his subservience to the formidable animal confronting him. “Okay,” Lynwood answered while staring at his feet and hating himself a bit.

  “Dara is our Alpha. She’s in control, and she’s done a lot for our family. I say family because a pack, as I’m sure you know, is a family. Some of us are crazy, some of us are meaner than piss, some of us are trying to get by from day to day, but she cared for us all time and time again. She puts us first, which matters. While I don’t have the foggiest clue why she’s allowing you to stay or why it smells as if she rolled all over you, she’s Pack. She’s ours, and if you’re here from some other pack, trying to infiltrate—”

  Lynwood’s gaze shot up, mouth open to protest, before he met the yellow eyes of the other man and his head ducked again. He couldn’t resist saying, though, “I’m not here to infiltrate your pack. I’m not from another pack. I’m on my own.”

  “Dandy,” Charley said, tone dry. “She’s still ours and,
like I said, has protected and fought for us more than once over the years. There are those among us who would react in a very negative way to someone hurting her, if you catch my drift.”

  “You sounded very mob on that one, Charley. Good job,” Greg inserted. Lynwood snorted.

  Charley yanked his head up by fisting a hand in his hair and Lynwood again gritted his teeth. The yellow eyes were cold, hard, and promised lots of painful things he didn’t want to test. Pinching his lips tight, he tried to stand still. Tried not to give anything away with his body language.

  Everything inside him, however, was trembling. He didn’t care for confrontation, nor did he care for violence as a general rule. He wanted to run. Long ago, he’d accepted when it came to fight or flight, he preferred flight.

  A bead of sweat trickled off his brow and dripped into his eye, stinging. He heard the harsh breathing, sounding far too fast, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own panting he listened to over the thudding of his pulse in his ears. If the other man held him in this position for much longer, he’d be thrown into a full-fledged panic attack. “You can smell a lie if I told one. I’m not here to hurt her.”

  I can’t hurt her. I like her.

  He didn’t add that part, though. Seeming satisfied, Charley released him almost gently. “So, you’re actually rogue? Not affiliated with any pack? Most of the rogues I met are at least loosely tied to one pack or another, whether by familial or bonds of friendship. No one calls you friend or family, Wolf?”

  Staring at his shoes, Lynwood still wanted to run. He wanted to be the kind of man who’d plant a fist in Charley’s face for asking. He wanted to be the kind of man who snarled at the questions altogether before searching for Dara and made his fantasies about her body into realities.

  Instead, he was himself, so he simply shrugged. “Told you, no pack. Shook off those shackles a long time ago.”