by Viola Rivard
As soon as she'd learned about the humans, Harper knew that she would have to get to The Steppes. If she could interview those women and document the details of their lives, she'd be able to present their stories to the world and perhaps change the narrative completely. Girls who grew up in the fringes were fed a narrative about shifters that was largely confabulated by their parents, and their parents before them. They were told that shifters were violent and psychotic, just a step above rabid animals. That their males abducted and raped human girls. Many lawmakers, both rural and metropolitan, didn't believe much better. Certainly, there were isolated reports of women living quality lives among shifter packs, but most mates never came forward to tell their stories, out of fear that they would be “rescued” from their packs and taken from their children.
In Shan's pack, Harper could have access to dozens of women living as mates of their own volition. They might even be willing to extol the happiness of being a shifter's mate. If they were revered, as mates in other packs were, then it was likely that their quality of life was substantially higher than it might have been had they remained in their impoverished human communities.
“I think I just figured out your thesis,” Harper said.
It was early evening, and she was stoking the campfire, trying to get some branches to catch the flame. Either the air was too charged with moisture, or the branches were too young.
“Really?” Jo said. She sat down next to Harper, hands on her knees as she leaned forward to gape at her.
“Yeah. I mean, I don't have a fancy title for it yet, but you could make the assertion that women's lives are improved by becoming a shifter's mate. Obviously, not women like us, but the sort of women who grow up in these fringe communities, women like Diamond, who might otherwise fail to receive higher education, have children young, or fall prey to addiction. I don't know, maybe I'm just being ignorant and generalizing, but pull some numbers when we get back. I know for a fact that the rates of teen pregnancy and opioid addiction are substantially higher in fringe communities.”
Jo was trembling with excitement. “Oh my God. That would be... I could win awards. I could be one of those people that appears in documentaries, you know, in the cutaways. That is such a good idea. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harper said, accepting one of Jo's bear hugs.
Members of the scouts had filed in and out throughout the day. Cade, Viper, and West had left in the morning and had not returned. Rosa had remained behind, and Jo and Harper hadn't been able to decide if she was meant to babysit them, or if she just had nothing better to be doing. Anytime they got up to take a pee or stretch their legs, they would inform Rosa of what they were doing. Each time, Rosa would look around nervously, as if seeking an adult to grant them permission. By the time she mumbled her assent, Jo and Harper would already be on their way.
A hiss of anticipation moved through the woods, signaling Shan's return. Harper had been watching for him all day, passively scanning the crowds whenever she had a moment of downtime. Even her walks, meant to stretch her legs, were poorly veiled attempts at running into him.
West was at his side, as well as a pale, hawkish female with red hair and few clothes. She and Shan were conversing, though they were too far away for Harper to hear.
Shan looked different to her now, though she couldn't pinpoint what it was. It could have been his height, which was even more marked seeing him stand head and shoulders above West, and every other member of his pack. More likely, it was the majesty of him, and she did not use that word lightly. Over the years, she'd heard so many different rumors about him. Now she had come to learn that he was more than anyone had said. He was the leader his kind had been desperately needing for centuries, and could very well be the one to guide them into a new era of peace and prosperity.
To put it succinctly, he was no longer just an alpha of modestly impressive merits. He was a figure of great intrigue, and Harper wanted to understand him inside and out.
Purely for academic purposes, of course.
“Did you see him naked?”
Harper's head snapped around. “What?”
Jo elbowed her. “Last night. Oh, come on, I don't mean like that. I mean, you know how they're naked after they shift? It's an honest question. I've seen more dong in the past 24 hours than during that entire weekend we spent at that weird German beach.”
“No, I didn't see it.”
Jo gave her a coy smile. “You think it's like this?” She held out one arm, and then tossed the other over it limply. “Like an elephant's trunk? Holy crapballs, are you blushing?”
“If I'm blushing, it's because I'm embarrassed to be your friend right now. I mean, come on, Rosa is right there.”
Absorbed in applying henna to the back of her hand, Rosa did not dignify them with a response.
“Are you gonna go talk to him now? About Ian?”
Harper looked back over to where Shan had been. He was almost out of sight now, heading in the direction of the bonfire with no less than ten of his pack mates trailing behind him.
“He just got back. He's probably busy. Maybe we could scope out the area, though. It'd be warmer over there, at least.”
Finally, Rosa looked up from her work. “You should stay put. If he wants you, he'll send for you.” She hesitated, and then averted her eyes as she added, “Also, he is...proportional.”
Jo laughed and wagged her eyebrows.
Harper was considering Rosa with renewed interest. Her first impression had been that Rosa was disinterested in them, but now she got the sense that she might secretly be eager to join in on their conversations. She struck Harper as timid, but loyal. It would be hard to get any useful information out of her, but they might be able to get some crumbs.
“Do you have firsthand experience?” Harper asked.
“With the alpha?” Rosa's eyes bulged. “No, no, never. Never, never.”
“Whoa, don't have a seizure on us,” Harper said.
Jo asked, “Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” Rosa repeated the word as if it were foreign to her. “Like in the movies?”
While Jo scratched her head, Harper amended, “Does he have favored partners?”
Favored partners, or favorites, were common among unmated alphas, who could have their pick of whichever females they wanted. There were usually one or two females that remained his most frequent partners, who by proxy, gained status within the pack.
Rosa's lips formed a crescent of disapproval. “Shan is not like that. He does not display his favor with his manhood.”
“So, he doesn't have anyone that he sleeps with?” Jo wheedled.
Rosa's shoulders twitched. “I didn't say that. And you shouldn't be asking questions like this. They're inappropriate.”
Jo hid a grin behind her hand, and whispered, “I thought you said shifters were more... I don't know, I didn't expect them to be quite so Victorian, if ya know what I mean.”
“Victorian?” Rosa asked.
Jo still hadn't grasped how good shifter hearing was. It had already made for several awkward exchanges, mainly Jo marveling over large penises. It had been a common theme throughout the day.
While Jo tried to explain without garnering offense, Harper was distracted by what looked like a scrap of paper on a nearby log. Her senses tingling, she got up and walked over to it. She let out a cry of delight as she picked it up.
“Rosa, Rosa!” Harper said, running over to her. She held up the half-smoked joint. “Do you know where the rest of this is?”
She hadn't had the chance to ask Viper before the older woman had disappeared that morning, and when she'd mentioned her pot to Rosa, she'd claimed to not know what Harper was talking about.
Rosa said, “Wherever Viper put it. Shan gave it to her. It's hers now.”
“It wasn't his to give.
“Everything is his to give.”
Harper started to protest, but the voice in the back of
her head, the cruel one she'd never been able to root out, had returned.
It's not yours anymore, you stupid idiot. Nothing is yours, ever. Anything you think you have belongs to anyone who can take it from you.
“You don't understand,” Jo was saying. “She needs it to sleep. She—”
Harper put a hand on Jo's shoulder. “Just drop it. Let's go.”
They departed from the camp, followed by Rosa's plaintive call that they should stay put.
“You're not going to try to get it back?” Jo asked, looping her arm in Harper's.
“Of course I am, but she's not going to help, it's not her nature. I'll try talking to Viper. At least this time she can't gag me.”
I think.
“You should try to find your inhaler, too. And Ian needs his EpiPen. Oh, what if he has an allergic reaction to something?”
“Ian hasn't had an allergic reaction since kindergarten.”
“Maybe Shan could help us get them back.”
Harper nodded, but doubted she would ask him. She was already putting more favors on him than she felt comfortable with. She hated that there was so much she couldn't do on her own. The loss of autonomy was something she'd not anticipated when planning her trip.
As they approached the bonfire and where Shan was seated, Harper expected to have to vie for his attention. She thought for sure he'd notice her, but he'd probably pretend not to. It was what she would have done.
Instead, he looked right at her, ignoring the two shifters talking on either side of him. He extended an arm, beckoning her over. His lips lifted in a contented smile that made her legs want to wobble and made her insides fluttery.
While Harper moved forward at a leisurely, I'm-in-no-hurry pace, Jo broke rank and scampered forward to greet West. He returned her greeting fondly, and Harper didn't miss how casually he placed a hand on Jo's hip.
Harper stopped a foot in front of Shan, glad that he was sitting because it meant that she could look down on him for once. Still, she found her tongue tied when she tried to greet him. She was glad when he spoke first, but caught off guard by what he said.
“Your hair is down.” Without asking permission in word or gesture, he reached out to finger the pale tips of her hair. “Is this your natural shade?”
For a second, she felt like she was in outer space, and that all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the air around her. She made a show of contemplating the question. It wasn't the sort of question that required any amount of thought to answer, but it was the best she could do while she regained her composure.
“No. My hair is naturally dark. I had to bleach it to apply the color.”
His hand moved up to the roots of her hair, the tips of his fingers brushing against her scalp. Harper could remember being less affected having her clitoris stroked. She fought the instinct to turn her head into his touch.
“Black?” he asked.
“Is it coming in already? I just dyed it the week before we left.”
She took a step back and pretended to fix her hair. Her cheeks felt hot and she knew she must have been blushing again. She was not the blushing sort of woman, but then again, she wasn't accustomed to managing the attentions of a man like this. In fact, she tended towards less dominant males, ones she knew she could have wrapped around her finger.
“My friend,” she heard herself blurt. Harper instantly wanted to hit herself. Where the fuck was the finesse? “Ian, the one you sent with Gareth. We haven't seen him today.”
Shan's hand fell back onto his lap. A guarded look came across his face. “Is there a question there?”
He was trying to make her feel small. She knew at once he wouldn't return Ian, at least, not yet.
“I just wanted to know if he's okay.”
“Really? That's all?”
You aren't going to beg? His eyes asked.
Harper's jaw clenched. “That's what I said.”
Shan leaned back, considering her for a moment. Then, he looked past her to address one of the males by the bonfire.
“Yorick. How is the human at your camp?”
The male stood to attention. Like many of the wolves, he was heavily tattooed, but his tattoos were multicolored, most of them red. Harper noted multiple depictions of skulls on fire.
Lame.
“He's fine, sir,” Yorick said, giving a shallow bow.
Shan waved a hand. “There you have it. He's fine.”
“Nope,” Harper said, making a slicing motion in the air. “He's fine? Just fine? Fine is a very subjective word, Yorick. I'm not really sure of your definition. Does he have agency, or is he being tied up like an animal? Is he being fed? Given water? And where's he being kept? Cause I've walked around this entire camp and I haven't seen hide or hair of him.”
As she spoke, Yorick watched Shan anxiously. Harper thought he was looking to see if he could answer her, but when she turned, she realized that Yorick, like Shan, was looking at her hand. Without thinking, Harper had held her hand up to Shan's face, as if to block him from the conversation. Even among humans, this was considered bad form, but it was clear that this was not something you did to an alpha wolf.
Shan's eyes drifted downwards as her hand lowered, as if he'd moved her hand with the force of his glare.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “But Ian is my friend and I brought him here. I'm responsible for him. I need to know that he's okay.”
“And you have heard,” Shan purred. “He's fine.”
A hot flash of anger engulfed Harper, causing her eye to twitch and her body to lock up.
She quickly calmed herself and did her level best to see things from his perspective. She had all but made a demand of him and then dismissed him out of turn, all while in front of his pack. She shouldn't have brought Ian up, at least not so early in their conversation. That had been sloppy, and she was better than that.
“Fine,” was Harper's curt reply.
She turned and walked away, half expecting someone to grab her and subject her to some sort of punishment. When no one did, she figured that being a shithead to the alpha was not a punishable offense.
You're not thinking clearly.
It was her own voice, blessedly. Her inner sage, who always seemed to appear just after when she'd been needed.
You're letting yourself become distracted.
At least now, she wouldn't be quite so attracted to Shan. Her stomach no longer twisted when she thought of him. Instead, her hand clenched and unclenched, and she imagined socking him hard in the face.
She had just cleared the campsites when Jo caught up to her, huffing for breath.
“Damn, do you have to storm off so quickly?”
Harper stopped, allowing Jo to catch her breath.
Jo said, “West thinks if you speak with Shan privately, you might have better luck.”
Harper had already deduced as much, but she was feeling too pissy to agree.
“I'm not a fan of luck. I don't want luck. I want results.”
“I know, me too,” Jo said. “Just try talking to him and if it doesn't work, we'll figure something else out.”
“Why don't you talk to him? Everyone here just seems to love you.”
Jo put her hands on her hips. “That's because I'm nice.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I'm sorry. Look, he doesn't even notice me. You know, kind of like every guy ever, when we go out together. He's looked at me once since I've gotten here, and he sure as hell isn't playing with my hair. He's into you. Just do what you always do and make him your man slave.”
Harper wanted to laugh, but she couldn't muster more than a smile. “I'm pretty sure he has my number, Jo. I haven't handled this situation well, and I think it might be too late to start playing him.”
“So what if he has your number? You're still gorgeous and he obviously still likes you. If you can't play him, then don't. Just be yourself, and...” Jo gave her a wincing smile. “It wouldn't hurt to be a tiny bit vulnerable. You know, kind of like you were with that
hotel clerk? Remember, back before you lost your mojo?”
Harper smacked her forehead. “You're right. This situation has me on edge. I've been so damn prickly.”
“That's putting it mildly.” Jo was quick to add, “But I forgive you.”
Harper rolled her shoulders and clapped her hands together. “Okay, I'm gonna head back to his den. My iPad is there anyway.”
Jo squeezed her shoulder. “You've got this, Harps.”
Oh, but to have your confidence.
Chapter 7
Harper used flint to light a small fire in Shan's den. It wasn't to keep warm, though it was starting to get chilly out. Somewhere in the craziness of the previous day, she'd cracked the screen of her cell phone and lost her lighter. Once she managed to get the tiniest flame, she lit her joint.
It wasn't an ideal time to smoke. She knew she should have waited until after she spoke with Shan, but she'd tried talking to Shan when she wasn't high, and she decided that maybe she'd have better luck. Aside from keeping her nightmares at bay, smoking also tended to take the edge off of her personality.
While she smoked, she absently stoked the fire to a lively crackle. After her poor showing earlier, she was anxious about talking to Shan again so soon. She could usually prepare for any social interaction in advance, playing out all possible scenarios in her head. Her mind worked quickly. She was good at anticipating how people would react and the things she could say to elicit her desired responses. When she tried to do that with Shan, every route she took led to her either pissing him off or them sleeping together.
When she stood up from the fire, her steps felt light and airy, and she knew that the weed had worked its magic. She floated outside, doing a little twirl as she stepped into cool night air. When she came to a stop, she found herself looking up at the great oak tree above the den. It looked ancient, with long, thick branches curving upward like a many-fingered hand reaching for the night sky.