Awakened by the Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  “What do you mean, banished?” Her gentle probe held no judgment.

  “My pack turned me out because I’m the reason Mason is dead.” Resentment leached into his words, followed by shame. “He would’ve been our next leader.”

  Behind him, Cassie stopped, so Brice didn’t continue forward. She missed a breath, and the back of his head burned, possibly from the heat of her gaze.

  “Anyone who blames you is an idiot,” she announced. “Sometimes bad things happen and it’s nobody’s fault. What happened to you and Mason was one of those times. You know that, right?” The warmth of Cassie’s small hand against his arm urged Brice to believe.

  His heart wouldn’t allow it.

  At the next window, Brice peeked inside. His grandmother’s old flowered housecoat hung across a chair.

  “This one.” Brice’s excitement turned to dread. He dropped into a squat. What if seeing him became too much for Granny?

  An icy chill caused him to shudder although a light sheen of sweat coated his skin. His head pounded the same rhythm as his heart. Both felt ready to explode.

  He tipped his nose toward Cassie less than a foot away. The balm of her sweet scent infiltrated his senses.

  Her head swept side to side. “All clear.”

  Brice appreciated her watchfulness, though his wolfan senses gave him a more accurate account of their surroundings.

  They faced the visitor parking lot, deserted this time of night except for Cassie’s old car parked in the shadows. A mildly curious grackle watched them from its perch on the nearby telephone lines. A car on the highway a block away sounded a faint hum in the stillness of the night.

  A roach inched toward Cassie, twitching its divining rod antennae. Brice chucked a piece of mulch at the insect and sent it scurrying away before she noticed.

  “You should hurry.” She motioned for him to get moving.

  Brice peeked in the window again. The monitors and IV pole partially blocked the view, so he couldn’t see if someone sat in the other chair near the bed. He dropped down again.

  “Please tell me you aren’t going to Tom-peep the window all night.” Cassie’s no-nonsense tone matched the exasperation on her face.

  “I can’t tell if someone is in the room.”

  “Knock on the window. Maybe they’ll let us inside before someone calls the cops.” Cassie moved from a crouch to a sitting position and leaned against the brick wall. “I don’t want to spend the night in jail.”

  “Neither do I.” Brice released a nervous breath.

  “I doubt you would get arrested. Me, on the other hand...” Cassie’s voice trailed off. She picked at a blade of grass that had wormed its way through the mulch.

  “They’d haul me in the same as you. Then they’d call the pack liaison, and he’d call my dad.”

  “The sheriff’s office knows about your wolfy people?”

  Brice shook his head. “To them, and everyone else, we’re the Walker’s Run Cooperative. Tristan Durrance is our law enforcement liaison. He’s a pack sentinel and a sworn deputy. Trust me, I’ll get the worst of this if we’re caught. My dad doesn’t want me in the territory.”

  Cassie tugged the grass blade free and peeled it into symmetric strips. “He’s expecting you. He told the resort staff that when you arrive, we are to give you any room you want and anything else you request. Without question. Why would he want us to accommodate you if he doesn’t want you here?”

  “I don’t know.” The tightness in Brice’s gut reached into his chest. His father was planning something, and whatever it was, Brice would certainly suffer the consequences.

  He stared at the black sky, devoid of stars due to the glow of civilization. The woods around his grandmother’s cabin protected the small homestead from the incandescence of modernization. Stretched on the grass on the slope of the backyard, he could watch the twinkling skyline for hours. He’d missed that peace and comfort in Atlanta, where he’d found only a few places a wolf could run and even fewer to stargaze.

  Brice rubbed his palm along the denim covering his sore calf. The aspirin hadn’t worked as well as he’d expected. He needed to do something or go home before the pain flared to unbearable again.

  He eased to the window and tried to push up the pane. “The lock is jammed. I can’t pop it.”

  “Nice to know breaking and entering isn’t your thing.” Cassie brushed past with a follow-me wave. The innocent contact triggered a rush of moony feelings that Brice vigorously shook off.

  Sneaking through the hedges, she led him within a few yards of an emergency exit. The door stood ajar, and a hospital employee lingered on the stoop. The orange glow from a cigarette sharpened his blocky facial features. He took a long drag and exhaled a plume of white smoke.

  Brice didn’t understand the human fascination with smoking. Wahyas avoided it like the mange because it skunked their sense of smell.

  Cassie’s shoulder rustled the bushes. She froze. Brice did the same. The orderly leaned against the rail and squinted in their direction without any apparent concern.

  Since the hospital worker seemed in no hurry to rush back to his duties, Brice crouched in a position that relieved the pressure on his bad leg. Beneath his jeans, his calf grew itchy and tight. If the inflammation moved into his foot and up to his hip, the pain would cripple him.

  Hoping Cassie’s scent would relax him, Brice closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Although she crouched less than two yards away, her magic failed, or at least malfunctioned, because his nose caught wind of a faint, nasty odor.

  He blew quick puffs of air through his nostrils to clear the smell. Instead of this ridding him of the stink, a putrid pungency assaulted his senses. The sensation of scurrying spiders rose in Brice’s chest, and he slapped both hands over his mouth to keep from chucking up cherry pie.

  “Stop making that noise,” Cassie hissed. “He’ll hear you.”

  If the severe nausea that plagued him after the attack returned, he’d go stark, raving rabid. Nothing—not Dramamine or Compazine or Phenergan or Antivert or a whole slew of other drugs—had controlled the queasiness.

  “He’s going inside.” Cassie rose to her feet.

  Brice grabbed her around the middle, and they toppled into the mulch.

  “What the heck are you doing?” She elbowed his chest.

  Dizzy and sweaty, Brice buried his face in her hair. “I need to smell you before I puke.”

  The argument he expected never came. She allowed him to smell at will.

  “That’s the weirdest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Does that line work on wolfy women?” Cassie wiggled beneath his weight.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never said it to a she-wolf.” Brice relaxed in the comfort of Cassie’s scent.

  “Jeez, aren’t I special.”

  “Yeah, you are. Before I met you, I couldn’t smell a damn thing. Now I smell you and that Dumpster over there.” He eased away from Cassie before her essence lulled him into believing the mating urge wasn’t a fluke after all.

  “How flattering.” Her soft-looking lips curling into an unpleasant frown, Cassie dusted wood chips from her clothes.

  “Cas, your scent reminds me of a beautiful meadow of wildflowers.” And he loved her scent as much as he loved the rich, buttery flora that bloomed midspring beneath the full sun at a hollow within the wolf sanctuary.

  After a few tense moments, Cassie’s mouth softened into a timid smile. “Thank you.”

  Oh, no. She gave him the look. The one that hooked him with her modesty and reeled him in with her sincerity. His insides went all gooey, and that had never happened. If they’d met before his life had spiraled into chaos, maybe...just maybe.

  Brice cleared the frustration from his craw. He had only one path now. A path a mate couldn’t follow.

/>   Cassie raced up the steps and jerked the emergency door handle. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”

  “Is the alarm busted?” Brice slipped past her.

  “I think someone disabled it a long time ago.”

  “You think?”

  Ignoring what he believed must be his most incredulous look, Cassie shoved him into the laundry room, where ample uniforms stocked the shelves.

  Owned and operated by the Walker’s Run Cooperative, Maico General not only provided state-of-the-art medical services to the town’s human residents but also maintained a private ward for sick or injured pack members. If uniforms or linens stained with wolfan DNA ended up in the wrong hands, well, the fallout would be disastrous.

  The Woelfesenat, the international wolf council governing the Wahya populace, had made significant political strides in recent years. Although some governments had acknowledged the wolfan population in secret negotiations, Brice knew revelations to the public-at-large would be a long time coming.

  “Put that on.” Cassie pointed at a white lab coat.

  “Something tells me that you’ve done this before.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves.

  “When my mom got sick, I had to work after school to help pay the bills. Visiting hours were over before I could get here, so I’d sneak in.” Cassie yanked a pair of yellow scrubs over her clothes.

  “Did she get better?”

  “Nope.” Cassie handed him a green surgical cap.

  “I’m sorry, Cas.” Brice wanted to pause a moment to let her know his sympathies were sincere, and it tweaked him that Cassie seemed indifferent to them.

  “Act normal and don’t make eye contact.” She cracked open the door. “Most people will only see the uniform unless you give them a reason to notice. Count to thirty before you follow me.”

  Brice’s stomach lunged. “Wait!” Pinning Cassie against the industrial dryer, he nuzzled her with abandon. His entire body sparked from her tantalizing scent and the soft suppleness of her skin.

  “Hey, what happened outside was sweet, if not a little awkward,” she said. “But this is getting creepy.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” Brice couldn’t stop his grin.

  “Holster your nose, Benji, before someone catches us.” The fire in Cassie’s cinnamon eyes counteracted her unamused frown.

  “Oh, that hurts, Cas. Calling me a scruffy little dog when you’ve seen how big my wolf is.”

  She flicked him a whatever wave and left. Brice counted to eight before the impulse to follow her won out. He stayed far enough behind so it didn’t appear they were together.

  Cassie confidently navigated the corridors. The determination in her steps, the no-nonsense sway of her hips, the steel in her spine—all of it was a pretense to conceal her tender heart. Beneath the bravado, this woman was far more delicate than she looked, and she looked fragile enough that a gust of wind might blow her to smithereens.

  The human ward clerk looked up from her computer. Brice slowed his pace, lowered his head and sharpened his senses.

  The woman squinted her eyes and lips at Cassie. “Are you the loaner from Chatuge Regional filling in for Rita?”

  Cassie veered toward the station. “Is she the ER nurse who broke her ankle?”

  The ward clerk’s broad, snaggletoothed grin plumped her cheeks. “Yeah, the old biddy should’ve had more sense than to skateboard at her age.”

  Brice shook his head. One of the blessings and pains of small-town living was that everyone knew everybody’s business to some degree. Miracles or pure luck had helped the Wahyas of Walker’s Run avoid discovery.

  Then again, Brice suspected some of the pack’s longtime neighbors knew of their duality and kept their secret out of loyalty and respect. Such as Cybil’s owner, Mary-Jane McAllister.

  She lived on the fringe of the co-op’s wolf sanctuary, a large area of protected forest where the pack roamed. High electric fences ensured human interlopers with cameras and shotguns stayed out, while sentinels patrolled the territory to ward off rogues.

  Unfortunately, even the best security measures sometimes failed.

  Chapter 7

  Brice hurried down the hall and slipped inside his grandmother’s room. A woman lay motionless on the bed. Wires peeked out from the neckline of her gown, and IV tubes sprouted from her arms. The faint line of an oxygen tube rested beneath her nose. The old lady appeared so feeble that she couldn’t possibly be his grandmother. He backed up, hoping not to disturb her.

  “Is someone there?” The woman’s weak voice stopped him.

  Brice’s mouth went dry, and his body felt as if it had been packed with sand. “It’s me, Granny.” He scratched his throat, though the itch seemed to spring from his voice rather than his skin.

  “Oh, my boy.” She lifted her tethered arms. “Come give me a hug.”

  Obediently Brice trudged to her bedside, bowed over her and offered a timid embrace.

  “You call that a hug?” Granny squeezed his neck, then rubbed and patted his back. When he eased away, her celestial-blue eyes scrutinized his hospital garb. “Changed professions, did you?”

  Brice snatched the flimsy green cap from his head and sifted his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want Dad to know I’m home. I came to see you, not him.”

  Granny tsked. “You have to face him sometime.”

  Brice doubted that he did.

  “End the quarrel, Brice. If not for your sake, do it for mine.” Granny’s plea tightened around his heart until he struggled to breathe.

  “Dad has to make an effort, too.” Brice limped to the window. “I’m not a priority for him.”

  Never had been.

  All Gavin Walker’s love and attention had gone to his firstborn, the Alpha-in-Waiting. Brice learned at a young age that his father held little regard for him, treating his second son as if he was lower than a pack Omega. Ironic, considering the Walker’s Run pack didn’t subscribe to the ancient social order for its members. Everyone had their place and purpose, but no hierarchy existed aside from the succession of the Alpha family, which the pack continued to endorse.

  “Talk to him,” Granny urged. “You’ll be surprised at what he has to say.”

  Nothing Gavin Walker said interested Brice. Too many hurts had hardened Brice’s heart and mind to listen.

  He wiggled the locking mechanism on the window until it loosened. After hoisting the pane up and down several times, Brice returned to Granny’s bedside.

  Ignoring her one raised eyebrow and one-sided frown, he pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. The heat of her silent chastisement forced him out of the lab coat. Guilt ate at him for not giving her what she wanted. Still, Brice wouldn’t agree to something that he had no intention of doing. “Tell me what happened last night.”

  “The pain started after supper. I told Cassie that I had indigestion.” A mischievous sparkle lit Granny’s tired eyes. “She’s such a sweet girl. I think you’ll like her.”

  Oh, he liked her, all right.

  “About last night?” Brice fidgeted to find a comfortable position for his leg.

  “Cassie dialed 911, gave me an aspirin and then called Gavin. If she hadn’t been there, I probably would’ve gone to bed.”

  Brice’s heart registered another tally in Cassie’s favor. Casually he rubbed his shirtsleeve across his face. A hint of her scent lingered in the fabric. Anticipation tickled his nose and spread to his groin. He couldn’t wait to snuffle her sweet spot again.

  “I worried that Adam wouldn’t tell you.” Granny held out her knobby hand, and Brice gently sandwiched her fingers between his palms.

  “He didn’t have a chance. I left Atlanta on Thursday as a wolf. He has no idea where I am. No one knows.”

  One of the monitors beepe
d louder, faster. “Brice Walker! What if something had happened to you?”

  “Easy, Granny.” He stroked her arm. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Doesn’t give you the right to be reckless. For goodness sakes, you are the Alpha-in-Waiting.”

  “No, I’m the fucking screwup who got the real one killed.”

  Granny’s dry lips puckered. “I’m not too sick to scrub your tongue with soap, young man, so watch your language.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Brice dropped his gaze and bowed his head.

  “You must let go of the past. Grief is eating your soul. Death is a part of life. Whether peaceful or violent, how we die is less important than how we live.” Granny’s fingers scrunched the hair at the back of his neck. “You aren’t the only one who suffered loss, my boy. Neither is your sorrow any greater than ours. You lost your brother, but the rest of us lost you both.” She lifted his chin until their eyes met. “Mason can’t come back, but you can.”

  “Dad won’t allow it.” Brice said the words as if he didn’t care.

  “Is that what you believe?” Granny’s penetrating stare splintered his thin veil of indifference. Shame, humiliation and a deep-seated hurt forced Brice to turn away.

  “Good heavens, it is,” Granny gasped. “What has Adam done to you?”

  “He gave me a place to belong.” Brice squeezed the bridge of his nose to curtail the migraine building behind his eyes. He didn’t want to waste their time arguing.

  “Where you belong is in Walker’s Run.” Granny’s words held the conviction of a red-faced minister preaching hellfire and brimstone at a camp meeting revival. Brice wanted to believe. He truly did. Walker’s Run was his home.

  Had been his home, a lifetime ago. Soon the path he chose would ensure he never called Walker’s Run home again.

  The door swooshed open and closed. “The nurses are starting rounds.”

  “Who’s that?” Granny turned her head toward the woman in the shadows.

  “Cassie.” Brice noticed how her presence de-escalated his tension.