Inking the Wolf: A wolf shifter paranormal romance (Wolves of Crookshollow Book 3)

by Steffanie Holmes

  The pain drew me back, reminding me what I was – a wolf without a pack, a cast-off from what would soon be the most powerful shifter clan in the entire world. Word would get around that Caleb had kicked me out, and I’d never find another pack to take me in.

  I’d left my father’s pack in order to join up with Caleb. I’d trusted him and believed in his vision. I’d tried my best to help, to do my bit to make the pack a success. I’d done nothing but care about Bianca, try to protect her, try to be kind. But all of them had just assumed the worst. They believed Rolf over me. When they looked at me, all they saw was a criminal who would hurt those he loved just to prove a point. If that’s what they believe I am … I was never part of their family in the first place. I was always alone.

  I’d thought I’d found a family, a real family that would support me through horrible times, the way the families in Mum’s storybooks always did. I thought I’d finally started to understand what all those fairytales were talking about. But it had all been a lie.

  Family, love, trust … it was all a lie.

  I’d burned all my bridges. I had nowhere left to go.

  I drove until night fell, then pulled the car over to the side of the road, parked up, and tipped the seat back. My back ached from being in the seat all day. My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten anything since … I couldn’t remember when. The idea of turning the car around and heading back to civilisation made my stomach turn.

  The moon shone in the window, taunting me with its hypnotic pull. It would be full tomorrow night. I’d need to be far away by then. My inner wolf was already desperate to be free, chomping at the bit to return to Crookshollow and fight Rolf. But without the support of the pack, that would only end in death. I longed to be outside, running in the moonlight, sleeping in the soft leaves or in the hollow of a tree. But I couldn’t leave the car. It would be just my luck that it would get stolen. And I could smell other wolves on the breeze. This was already someone’s territory. I’d be safer in human form, for now.

  I closed my eyes, hoping that exhaustion would wash over me and grant me a few blissful hours of oblivion. But as soon as my eyelids closed, Bianca’s face danced across my vision, her blazing eyes burning me as she banished me from the home we’d built together.

  My fingers flew to the wedding band on my finger. The metal felt ice cold.

  Bianca. How could you think I would do such a horrible thing? How could we be so close, and yet you didn’t know me at all?

  Light blared in front of my eyes, pounding inside my skull. I opened my eyes, and immediately wished I hadn’t. Blinding light blared through the windscreen. The sun had well and truly risen.

  I tried to roll over. A cramp arced down my side. The gear shift dug into my thigh. My temples throbbed. I used to sleep in a hollowed-out car when I lived in the forest, but then, I’d mostly stayed in my wolf form. Clearly, Ladas weren’t designed with the comfort of humans as a forethought.

  I leaned over the backseat, searching through my backpack for a muesli bar. I know I have a stash from when I went to the library … maybe they’re buried under my clothes … My hand brushed something hard and square.

  Silvia’s scrapbook.

  In my haste to throw as much stuff as possible into the car, I must’ve picked it up by mistake. Guilt sliced through me. Bianca loved that scrapbook, and it rightfully belonged to her. I pulled the volume out and rested it on my lap while I tore the end off the wrapper of a muesli bar and shoved the whole thing in my mouth. I opened the book, sniffing the edge of the page. A pang shot through my chest as a whiff of Bianca’s spicy perfume wafted past my face.

  I slammed the book shut again, and tossed it on the passenger seat, the rage rising in my gut once more. But after a few moments, I dragged the book back onto my lap and flipped it open to a random entry. Right now, Silvia Sinclair was the closest person I had to a friend.

  I didn’t bother reading the entries – I knew most of them by heart. Instead, I stared at the illustrations and scraps of fabric and lace that had been lovingly glued into the pages.

  I paused on one particular page – the entry where Silvia had first declared her love for Hattie, and alluded to their night together in illicit discovery. The image printed on the page was of a woman’s silhouette, her hair rendered in an elaborate period style. Silvia had use a scrap of ivory lace and a blue ribbon to create a bridal dress. Another scrap of lace formed a veil. Silvia had coloured in the bride’s hair with golden pastels. I knew from the portrait that Silvia's hair was brown, so I guessed she was trying to draw Hattie. I noticed Silvia had made other doodles on the page with ink and pastel. She’d even drawn in a choker around the bride’s neck, and a …

  Hang on.

  I squinted at the picture, wondering how no one else had ever noticed it before. On the hand of the bride in the image was a beautiful ring rendered in tiny, perfect detail – two coiled snakes and a red stone.

  The Benedict Ring.

  Silvia drew Hattie wearing the Benedict Ring.

  Excited now, I turned the pages, forgetting the words entirely and just focusing on the many tiny doodles Silvia had made on the pages. There were so many details we hadn’t even looked at, like little hands reaching out of cupboards to pluck cakes from the kitchen while the cook’s back was turned (Hattie, I presumed), or a funny doodle of a boy carrying a huge stack of groceries and bags down the street, while a girl walked next to him and laughed. I wondered if the boy was meant to be Ben, the gardener’s son.

  I noticed a couple of the other female silhouettes had been turned into Hattie, with their hair coloured golden and their lips drawn on in blood-red.

  I couldn’t believe it. Everyone who’d looked at the book, even me, had been so focused on the words that we completely overlooked the hundreds of images that brought to life Silvia and Hattie’s relationship. There were love hearts and lips and kisses, cakes and card games and teacups, hands reaching for each other and gift boxes tied up with string.

  I came to the page where Silvia wrote about Hattie’s death. My book fell open on my lap. My fingers dug into the seat as I focused on the image.

  The printed figure on the page was a woman holding a bouquet of flowers, the obvious idea being that the scrapbooker would place a posy of dried flowers over the space. Here, Silvia had placed a single white dried flower, now grey and brittle with age. The girl’s eyes had been crossed over with black ink, and Silvia had drawn a long cloak around her body, or perhaps it was a shroud. A thick black line around the picture formed the distinctive shape of a coffin, and a dove flew overhead.

  Bloody hell, she’s drawn Hattie in death. How did I never noticed it before?

  I squinted at all the details, taking in the love and devotion that Silvia had rendered her lover. My heart pounded as I noticed that Silvia had added jewellery to the image. At the nape of the woman’s neck, hanging from a string, the edge of a tiny ring with a red stone peeked out from the edge of the cloak.

  The ring … it was around Hattie’s neck when she died. Somehow, Silvia had it buried with her.

  Find Hattie’s grave, and you find the Benedict Ring.

  I reached across the seat to grab my phone. Wait until I told Bianca. She won’t believe it—

  As soon as my hand grazed the edge of my phone case, I remembered. I couldn’t call Bianca. She hated me. I couldn’t call Caleb, either, and by now word would have spread to everyone in the pack. Not one of them would take a call from me.

  You don’t owe them anything, I reminded myself. You could just toss the book out the window, and drive on. After all, you’re the one who’s been wrongly accused, and if you’re caught near Lowe territory in your wolf form …

  Sighing, I set the seat upright, tossed the book onto the seat beside me, and jammed the key in the ignition.

  Looks like I’m going back to Crookshollow.

  31

  Bianca

  The night passed, and so did much of the morning. Sunlight blared through my
window, its warmth like a punch in the face. I lay in bed, squinting into the glare but unable to draw the energy needed to get up and shut the curtains. Instead, I counted the roses on the wallpaper and wished they would come to life and envelop me in their thorny embrace. Any pain would be better than this.

  I’d been so sure that I could trust Robbie. I let down the defences I’d built for so many years to hold back the influence of my parents. But it had all been a lie.

  Elinor appeared in the doorway, a Bewitching Bites takeout box tucked under her arm. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. I’ve brought you sustenance.”

  My head pounded. I sat up and rubbed my temples. Elinor perched on the edge of the bed, opening the box to reveal two still-warm Cornish pasties. “Fresh from the oven,” she said. “Belinda made them special.”

  “She’s a doll.” I reached for the pastie, wincing as a sharp pain attacked my temple. Instead, I changed course and grabbed my water bottle from beside the bed. Elinor had placed a bottle of painkillers next to my bed. I popped two in my mouth with a huge gulp of water.

  “I’ve called all the clients booked in for the next week and explained what happened. Most are willing to wait to hear from us to reschedule.”

  “Mmmm.” A stab of guilt hit me behind the eye, or perhaps it was just the hangover. I knew I should be helping Elinor. After all, it was my shop and my heartache. But ever since I found out what Robbie had done, I just couldn’t bring myself to care about the shop, or The Prim, or anything else.

  Elinor continued. “I’ve also called Dave over in Inked Insanity in Crooks Crossing. He’s willing to lend us some space so we can keep working while the shop’s repaired. I told him I’d head in tomorrow to knock out a few clients, but that you’d still be out for a couple of days.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I should start working again.”

  “It’s not fine, Bianca. You’ve had your heart broken. It fucking sucks, and you need to take some time to process it. Hell, we all do. This is a huge shock. Robbie was such a good dude. It just doesn’t make sense that he would betray all of us like this.”

  No, it doesn’t. But he did.

  With a heave of effort, I shoved the blankets aside and kicked my legs out. “No, I don’t want to lie here anymore. It’s not a big deal, really. He’s just a guy. “

  Elinor nodded toward the rubbish bin in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled-up tissues. “That’s an awful lot of tears for someone who didn’t mean anything to you.”

  “I think I need coffee. Coffee will make it all better.” I rolled onto the ground, fumbling around in the piles of clothes for my jeans.

  Strong hands lifted me under the shoulders and dumped me back on the bed. “You need to stay here, and wallow,” Elinor scolded. She shoved the bakery box toward me. “Eat your pastie and I’ll get you your coffee. I’ll bring you your sketchbook and some pens as well, so you can draw some flash if you get the urge. I’ve got the laptop here if you want to answer some emails or watch a trashy movie. But you are not leaving this house, and that’s an order.”

  “Thanks, Elinor. You’re amazing.”

  “I know.” She bounced toward the door, leaving me alone with my misery.

  I pulled over the laptop, biting into my pastry as I checked through my email. The attack on my shop must’ve hit the local ink grapevine, because hundreds of messages of support flooded my inbox from old clients, fellow tattoo artists and other friends. Someone had even started up a “Resurrect Resurrection Ink” crowdfunding page, and people were donating money to help fund the repairs. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes.

  So much support, so many kind offers of help, and yet … I wanted none of it. The only person I wanted was Robbie.

  I wiped the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks, and slammed the laptop shut. It was too much to think about right now. I flopped back down on the bed, fresh tears springing from my eyes.

  Robbie, wherever you are … I hate you for doing this to me. I hate you for how weak you’ve made me, and I will never, ever forgive you.

  32

  Robbie

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I slammed my first against the steering wheel, cursing at the top of my lungs as I crawled along behind a massive lorry.

  There would have to be a huge accident on the M1, so of course all traffic was in gridlock while they funnelled us into one lane so they could clean up. At this rate, I wouldn’t get to Crookshollow before nightfall. Which, given the way my inner wolf was scratching to be free, would be bad.

  My hand on the wheel turned into a paw. I gritted my teeth and forced the wolf back inside me, turning the paw back into fingers again. I couldn’t get the fur to retract, but as long as I made it to Crookshollow before I turned, I’d be okay driving with furry hands.

  Come on, Robbie, just a little bit longer.

  My whole body shuddered as I crossed the scent trail that marked the boundary of the Lowe territory. I whipped the car around the corner as quickly as I could, heading for the flat that Anna and Luke shared near the edge of town. My cheeks itched from the fur poking through my skin, but I didn’t have time to worry about it now.

  Just a little longer.

  Their house loomed up ahead. I whipped the Lada into their driveway, ploughing it straight into the back of Anna’s family wagon. Metal crunched. My head whipped back against the seat. As the Lada rolled back from the impact, I could see their back bumper had been completely caved in.

  Shite. Anna is going to kill me.

  “Robbie, what are you doing here?” Anna cried, running out of the house as I shoved the door open and toppled on to the grass. Little baby Colin gurgled as he bounced on her hip. “You’re not supposed to be back in Lowe territory. If Caleb catches you here—omigod, what did you do to my car?”

  “Help me,” I cried, dropping to my knees as the shift started. The scrapbook toppled from my arms, landing on the grass and opening to a random page. I tried to flip the pages, but my paw wouldn’t grab the edge of the paper. The page tore with a loud rip. “You have to show this to Caleb. Show him the page about Hattie’s death. Sylvia buried the ring with Hattie! It’s right here in the picture. You have to show this to him, Anna. I promise I’ll leave just as soon as you—”

  Anna screamed as my face contorted. “Robbie, you’re shifting. Get the hell out of here before you hurt my son!”

  I opened my mouth to tell her that even in my wolf form, I’d never hurt Colin, who was part of our pack. But all that came out was a tormented howl. I was a wolf once again. Pain arced through my whole body as my bones snapped and my organs rearranged themselves. The world around me exploded with new smells—trails of animals, Anna’s dinner from the night before, Colin’s dirty nappy …

  Anna screamed. I bolted away, heading for the woods. You’ve done as much as you can do now. Get away, before Caleb catches you. I turned back to look over my shoulder. Anna was bent over my clothes. The scrapbook was shoved under her arm and she was fishing around in my pockets for something. She’s probably looking for the keys so she can move the car. At least that might bide me a little time before Caleb realises I’m back—

  But Anna held up my mobile phone, the screen flashing that I’d received a message. Anna’s eyes darted across the screen, and her whole face collapsed, first with confusion, then with some kind of grim realisation.

  I growled, baring my teeth at her. If she came too close to me, Caleb would smell me on her and his instincts may make him do something dangerous. I didn’t want to put her or baby Colin in danger.

  “Robbie,” Anna yelled, hiking Colin up against her hip and holding my phone in her hand. “Stop running and listen to me. I think Bianca’s in trouble. We’ve got to get to Primrose House right now.”

  33

  Bianca

  My eyes fluttered open. The room was dark, a pale sliver of moonlight cast across the bed. Rubbing my aching temples, I rolled out of bed and pulled back one of the curtains, admiring the bright orb t
hat blared through the window.

  The full moon.

  My eyes darted to the trees at the edge of the forest that bent toward the house. Somewhere out there, Caleb and Luke and Rolf and Robbie were hiding, hunting, their rational minds warped by their animal instincts. Caleb and Luke and Rolf would be stalking through the Crookshollow Forest, on the prowl for a tasty snack, whereas Robbie would be somewhere far away by now, somewhere I could never hope to find him again, even if I wanted to.

  Which I didn’t. Not at all.

  Robbie. I hoped he was okay. I wondered where he had gone. Did he go back to his father? Surely he wouldn’t, not after everything that’s happened—

  No, I shook my head, trying to shake away the thoughts. You don’t get to worry about Robbie any longer. Whatever he does from now on is his business.

  I grabbed my phone and checked the time. 8:12 p.m. My stomach growled. I stared at the bakery box Elinor had left beside the bed. The end of the pastie had crusted over, and the lemon tart had melted into an unappealing yellow puddle.

  That won’t do. My stomach rumbled. I needed food before I could begin another night of drinking away my pain. I grabbed a hoodie from off the floor, and threw it on over my pyjamas. The tick tock tick tock on the grandfather clock punctuated the still silence of the hallway. I had no idea if Serenity was out, and I didn’t particularly care. I shoved my hands into my pockets, and made my way down the darkened staircase.

  I didn’t turn on a light until I got to the drawing room, where I clicked on one of the garish carved lampshades and slumped into the chair by the fire. My bottle of scotch still sat on the table from where I’d been drinking with Caleb and Eric. Three dirty glasses sat next to it. I grabbed one of them and filled it, sipping the burning liquid while I dialled Pete’s Pizza.