A Mate For Jackson

by Selena Scott

  Not wanting to ruin his nice flannel shirt or his jeans, he started to strip down, only then realizing just how cold it really was down in the bare basement. He noticed that the camping blanket he usually kept down here for this exact reason was nowhere to be seen. He could either tough it out the entire night or he could run back upstairs very quickly and grab one of the blankets from the living room.

  Figuring that the night was going to be long and hard enough with Kaya on the premises, Jackson decided to cut himself some slack. He ran back up the stairs, his shirt flapping open, and grabbed the afghan where it was piled on the arm of the couch.

  Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice on his way back down that the basement door didn’t latch.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kaya was very glad she’d packed for a ski trip. It was cold as shit in that attic! The fire in the hearth helped, but only if she was right up next to it, and she didn’t particularly want to sleep on the floor. She was in bed at 9 p.m., which wasn’t an oddity for her. She was the kind of person that viewed each night as her own personal opportunity to hibernate. She took sleep very seriously.

  But tonight it was evading her. She was cold. She was bored—because the book she’d grabbed to tide her over was one she hadn’t realized she’d already read. And most of all, she was curious.

  “Curiosity killed the Kaya,” she mumbled to herself, rolling over in her blankets in the hopes that if she was lying on her side they’d magically become warmer somehow.

  It would be dumb to go downstairs, right? This was not a night for curiosity. Any other night, maybe. But tonight was the full moon and she’d sworn that she would stay upstairs.

  She sighed. This was no good. She was gonna have to sleep on the floor by the fire. It was just too cold in the attic. She could see her breath, for God’s sake!

  The snow had stopped about an hour ago, and the wind had stopped with it, so except for the fire crackling occasionally, it was the kind of dead quiet that could only be achieved by deep-forest snow.

  She rolled out of bed, feeling the cold floor even through two pairs of socks, and gathered up her blankets all around her. She would have moved the mattress off the old, wrought-iron bed, but it turned out to be a repurposed futon mattress and the damn thing weighed more than she did. Just grabbing her pillow, she set about making a little floor bed.

  As she settled in front of the fire, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to Jackson. Was he sleeping? Was he cold? Would he truly have weathered the storm outside just to keep her safe?

  She knew he was extremely devoted to the safety and welfare of those around him. She also knew that it bothered the crap out of Raphael and Seth. They’d spent their adulthoods attempting to get Jackson to quit constantly throwing himself on the altar of brotherhood and taking one for the team over and over again. It seemed to be his primary way of showing love.

  That thought sent an icy jolt through Kaya’s system.

  No, no, no, she corrected herself. It wasn’t that he loved her. He was just hardwired to protect people. And she just happened to be a people. A person. God. She was losing it.

  “Go to sleep, Kaya,” she whispered.

  And she might have gotten there, lulled by the gentle crackle of the fire, finally getting warm, but then a new sensation registered.

  Kaya turned her face into the pillow and groaned.

  This was the worst time to have to pee. Ever. In the history of peeing. But it was a thing with her. She pretty much always had to pee at the worst possible times. The climax of a movie she’d spent fifteen dollars to see in 3D? Check. As a kid, just when she’d found the absolute perfect hiding spot in hide and seek? Check. As a babysitter, right when the baby had fallen asleep on her chest? Check.

  And apparently now. On a full moon. When she should be sleeping and not going anywhere near downstairs. Check.

  She sat up and threw the blankets off of her. There was a small window over there. Maybe she could balance very carefully and throw her ass over the window sill—no. No, that was lunacy. With her luck, she’d slip and Jackson would find her in the morning, frozen in a snow drift with her pants down.

  She was going to have to sneak down to the bathroom.

  Hoping that her double-socked feet would pad her sound a little bit, she started to creep down the attic stairs. She kept to the far side of the stairs, near the wall, hoping that they wouldn’t creak as much. She was actually impressed with herself—she was pretty sure she’d been utterly silent on the way down. Now for the door.

  It probably took her a solid four minutes to quietly pry the door open wide enough for her to slip through. And still, she was certain that she hadn’t made more noise than the ins and outs of her breaths. Luckily, the bathroom was right next to the stairs, so she slipped in and did her business, letting out a sigh of relief.

  It was then that she did something stupid. On reflex, Kaya flushed the toilet.

  She winced and froze, her hands in the air like she was trying not to knock anything over. At first, she thought it wasn’t so bad, but then, she realized just how old the pipes were in this cabin. It seemed like the entire house creaked and cracked and shook as the water ran through. She quickly washed her hands, cursing herself for her stupidity and hoping against hope that she hadn’t disturbed Jackson. She wouldn’t be looking forward to him reaming her out in the morning if she had.

  She took a deep breath and eased the bathroom door open, closing it behind her gently. She was two steps toward the attic stairs when she heard it.

  A low, menacing growl seemed to rumble right into her chest, stopping her heart completely. She slowly turned around, like a girl in a horror movie, and now she was certain that her heart truly had stopped.

  Standing at the top of the basement stairs, a shackle around his neck and a broken chain trailing behind him, was an enormous white wolf.

  ***

  The moon rose and Jackson’s shift was just as painful as usual. No surprise there. It seemed that no amount of training with Bauer or with his brothers could make this any easier on Jackson. Over the last two years, Seth and Raphael had become quite adept with their shifts. Seth could shift any old time he felt like it, and the only time he was truly beholden was at moonrise of a full moon, but even that was only for a few minutes before he could shift back if he felt like it. Raphael was still taming his shift in many ways, but he’d learned over the past year how to ignite it and how to shift back; he also could retain most of his human thoughts and emotions in his wolf form.

  Jackson could do… none of that. Shifts were as painful for him now as his very first ones had been as a toddler. He couldn’t make himself shift at different times in the moon cycle and he couldn’t make himself shift back until the full moon had sunk and let him free of its power. He also was incapable of human thought or emotion in his wolf form. He was powered completely on instinct, ruled by thoughts of hunger or fatigue or restlessness. He was not himself in his wolf form. Not at all. No matter how much time he spent meditating with Bauer or attempting to trigger his shift at different times of the moon cycle. None of it ever seemed to matter.

  Jackson had come to believe that he was simply a wilder, more dangerous wolf than his younger brothers. Which seemed perfectly plausible since he and the twins were not genetically related. Elizabeth had adopted them just like she’d adopted Jackson after his parents had been killed in a car accident in his second year of life. His first shift had been just a year later.

  The story went that when Jackson was in elementary school, he’d been playing in a park playground and had seen Seth and Raphael playing with their then foster parents. Apparently he’d been immediately able to sense that the twins were also wolf shifters. Elizabeth had been able to offer the boys a permanent home, adopting them just a few months later.

  Though Jackson had a very good memory, and could remember his brothers coming to live with them, he had no memory of that day on the playground. As far as he could tell, he no
longer possessed the skill of sensing who else was a shifter.

  A few years ago, when Bauer had come to live with his family, he’d explained that apparently the younger children shifters of animals who are generally pack animals often have the power to sense who is who. It’s an evolutionary tactic to find a group where the child would be safe.

  To Jackson, it was the most in-tune shifter thing he’d ever done and he couldn’t even remember it. He didn’t want to suffer through his shifts. He didn’t want to fear himself in shifter form. He didn’t want to hate the moon as much as he did. But that’s what a lifetime of fear will do to a person.

  Regardless, none of that mattered in the moments after the moon fully rose over the horizon, unseen but deeply sensed by the man shifting into a wolf in the basement of the secluded cabin. He’d gotten himself naked and shackled with plenty of time. His bones cracked first, changing the physiology of his body. Then he tried not to shout as he felt his heart change shape and migrate. His lungs were cement mixer-ed out of air and he gasped as canines tore through his gums and claws sprang free from his fingernails. He was in a twitching ball when the fur came.

  In just a few minutes, the wolf stood up and shook heartily, from head to toe. He sat on his haunches and searched for the moon above him. When he once again encountered just the dim, chilly basement, he sat back on his haunches and whined.

  The whining gave way to pacing, as he often did, because shifting came with a great bit of energy. The wolf wanted to be free, to sprint and sniff and track and find his pack. But the chain only extended about five feet.

  After a few minutes, the wolf gave up and collapsed onto the cold dirt floor. He lifted his head and looked around. There was a scent on the air…

  Nose to the ground, the wolf rose up and nosed around the basement. Ah, there it was. There was a warm blanket that he could lie down on. But almost the second the wolf’s nose touched the knitted fabric, he let out a long, low growl and jumped back, as if he’d been burned.

  There was something… alarming and foreign about the scent on the blanket. The scent was familiar and very intense. It both cautioned the wolf and drew him forward again. The wolf nosed at the blanket and filled his nose with the scent.

  He had no more questions about it. He knew exactly what the scent was. It was the scent of his mate.

  Mate.

  It was the first English word that the wolf had ever thought before. It felt uncomfortable to think English. As if the word were coming to him from deep underwater and he had to strain to hear it.

  He tried to think it again but the word disappeared. So, he buried his nose in the blanket for a second time and inhaled the complicated scent, as strong as a flavor, that was left there. And just like that, the word came back to him.

  Mate.

  This time, the wolf was able to hold on to the English. In fact, he thought it over and over, like a mantra. He stood up to pace, feeling a rising adrenaline in his system and every step was fueling it.

  Where was his mate? It wasn’t a fully formed thought, and it certainly wasn’t in English. But on some level, the wolf wondered. Why was he alone? Why, always, was he alone? He sat back on his haunches and whined, long and low.

  His mate was somewhere, he was sure of it. He could catch her fresh scent on the air right that very moment. Was it just coming from the blanket? Or was it from somewhere else as well?

  The wolf continued to pace. For the first time in years, he spent a few minutes testing the strength and tenacity of his bonds. No good. He was stuck.

  No wild animal enjoys being chained and confined and the wolf was no different. Especially not with the scent of his mate on the air.

  He had just pressed his nose into the blanket again when he heard it. A small sound. But it was loud to the wolf. Not just in volume but in meaning. A wolf, a natural born hunter, knows what it sounds like when another animal is creeping, attempting to hide its own noise. The wolf, already incensed by the scent of his mate, tipped his ear to the air, staring into nothing as he waited for the noise to come again.

  And come again it did. There was an animal creeping around above him, he was sure of it. The low growl came again, unbidden. The wolf’s hackles rose, a tension starting to be jettisoned through his body by his heart.

  He heard more sounds and then, on a subtle waft of air, down through a crack in the door to the basement, came the scent of his mate.

  The wolf was at his wit’s end. He’d never felt like this before. Instinct and adrenaline drove into him an unusual strength. There were more sounds from above him, louder ones, and the wolf wrenched himself against his chains. He felt his flesh bruise and couldn’t bring himself to care.

  He wrenched himself once, twice, and then he was bounding away, free. He paused only long enough to pick up the blanket in his teeth and then he was padding up the stairs, the only sound being the chain dragging behind him.

  And then, he paused; a crack of light opened in front of him as he sniffed the air. There was movement. He growled, waiting for his eyes to acclimate. And then he saw her.

  ***

  Kaya held in her scream mostly because her throat tightened down so hard with fear that it just died in her throat. Theoretically, she didn’t think Jackson would hurt her. She wasn’t actually scared of him. But in reality, there was a two-hundred-pound, wild-eyed wolf standing ten feet from her.

  She’d, of course, known that this was exactly why Jackson had been chained and hiding in the basement. She’d known the Durants for two decades. Their secrets were her secrets. But it was rare that she actually encountered one of them in their shifted form. And she’d only seen Jackson in his shifted form once. The memory alone was enough to have spiders crawling up her back. And this, right here in front of her, was no memory.

  There was something hanging from his mouth and for one horrible second, she thought it might be the carcass of an animal. But then she looked a little closer.

  “Hi there, Jackson,” she said soothingly, but the effect was ruined by the high squeaky pitch of her voice. “Looks like you’ve got my scarf there, huh?”

  A small part of her wondered why a wolf would carry her scarf around in his mouth, but a much larger part was wondering how fast she could bolt to the door of the attic stairs and whether or not that wolf could break the door down.

  She looked at the size of his paws and then at the bent metal chain he trailed behind him and she bet that yeah, the wolf could break down a door.

  She gulped. Okay. So. Running and hiding wasn’t an option.

  Making friends it was.

  “I can’t even make friends with him when he’s a human,” she muttered. “What makes me think I can make friends with him when he’s a wolf?”

  She stood very still and so did the wolf. His eyes were unnerving, just as dark as Jackson’s eyes when he was in his human form. She knew that Seth and Raphael could understand rudimentary English that was spoken to them when they were in their wolf forms, and she wondered if the same could be said for Jackson. He didn’t look like he understood English. He looked like he wanted to eat her heart under the light of a harvest moon.

  Well, she had to try.

  “How you doin’, Jackson?” Her voice was a bit calmer and she guessed that using his name might be the smart thing to do. “Do you know who I am?”

  She laid the flat of her hand against her chest and the wolf tracked the movement.

  “Kaya,” she said, naming herself and hoping against hope that there was anything resembling humanity in the heart of the beast in front of her.

  She’d only seen Jackson’s wolf one other time. It had been a few years ago. It had been an accidental shift for him, the only one he’d ever done outside of the full moon, as far as she knew. And it had been borne of rage. Overcome with fury and fear, he’d accidentally shifted and then turned on the first creatures he’d seen. Unfortunately it had been Kaya and Sarah in his path. He’d advanced on them only to be taken out by Seth in his own wo
lf form.

  Kaya had been terrified in the moment, but she’d had such a strong crush on Jackson at the time that she’d convinced herself that he would never have hurt her even if Seth hadn’t stopped him. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. His eyes were wild as the wolf took a step toward her and all the terror that Kaya had felt on that day came washing back over her.

  “Oh, God.” She stepped back, accidentally backing herself into the wall behind her and banging her head for good measure. “Ouch.”

  The wolf, watching her still, dropped the scarf and cocked his head to one side. Well, that was something. Kaya had absolutely no idea what it meant; it could be wolf-speak for ‘make your peace with God, human, because you’re dinner’ for all she knew. But at least he looked a little friendlier.

  “Can you sense fear? I bet you can. I bet me being freaked out is sending out some delicious smells right now, huh? Yup, I bet to you I smell like a weak little animal just dying to be your dinner, breakfast, and lunch. Well, I’m not gonna do that, Jackson. That’s not my fate in this world. So, yeah. Let’s even the playing field, shall we? You’ve got teeth and claws, I need a weapon of some kind. A nice little don’t-you-even-worry-about-it weapon. Just like, ah! Brilliant. That fire poker over there. So, don’t mind me while I just inch my way over here aaaaand there we go.”

  She inched along the wall all the way to the fireplace and to the stand of fire-tending tools that sat next to it. There were still small flames licking at the log in the hearth and Kaya figured that between the fire itself and the two fire pokers, she might actually stand a chance. In the meantime? Yoga breaths.

  Taking nice long breaths to try and smooth her adrenaline out, Kaya carefully unsheathed one of the pokers.