“Hi.” I sat down, and Clara placed a huge plate in front of me. My stomach protested, already full from the breakfast I’d eaten in my room. “I didn’t see either of you when I came in last night.”
“We were outside,” Ryan said. “We’ve been guarding the house from those wolves.”
“Did you see or hear anything?” I tried to keep my voice casual, as the words on the text message flashed across my memory.
Ryan shook his head. “Apart from a man walking down the street earlier this morning, the place has been completely deserted. We didn’t smell any wolves nearby, either. I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you.” I pointed to the splatters on his arm. “What’s that about?”
“Oh …” Ryan looked down at himself, as though he’d only just noticed. It was then I saw he had flecks in his long eyelashes. “Yes, that. I’m a painter. It kind of comes with the territory.”
“I’m very used to Ryan splattering around all sorts of colours around the place,” Clara said, as she set down a plate in front of her son.
“Oh, you paint houses?” That must be how he got all those impressive muscles. He looked like a manual labour kind of guy.
Marcus snorted. Ryan grinned. I guessed I was missing some kind of joke.
“I must say, Rosa. I think you’re handling this all rather well.” Clara poured tea for all of us. “It’s always interesting to see how people react when they find out shifters are real. Ryan’s girl Alex was pretty level-headed, all things considered, but your Kylie had a bit of a panic about it, didn’t she, love?”
“She’s fine,” Marcus growled, stealing a butty from Ryan’s plate.
“If you do have any questions, we’re happy to answer them. Your wolf has probably been too busy running around after your attackers to have a good talk about it.”
“Oh, thank you.” I toyed with the handle of my cup. “I guess … I’m a little curious about one particular thing. From what Caleb’s told me, there are plenty of other shifters living in England, not to mention all over the world. You’re not supernatural demons, but a real species, effectively a minority with rights like anyone else. So why do you live in secret? No one should have to hide who they are. You could have politicians fighting for your rights, and celebrate your heMargaretge, and educate humans about shifter society—”
“You have a very rosy view of humankind’s capacity for dealing with something as different as shifters,” Ryan explained. “We may not be supernatural, but to most people, we’re demons. All the myths and legends throughout history about shapeshifters came from times when we did not live in secret, and our races were hunted down and killed because of what we are and what we represent. Near-extinction tends to make one a little camera-shy.”
“I know a little about what that feels like,” I said, staring at my black fingers wrapped around my cup.
“I don’t doubt you do,” Ryan said, his voice gentle. “Unfortunately, fighting for equality is the least of our problems. There are many shifters who want to end this vow of silence. Most of them are either mad or dangerous, or both. There was one such wolf here last year, by the name of Isengrim. His idea was to unite all the rogue shifters – those are shifters who don’t have a pack of their own – into one great pack. Then, he would use a public event to shift into his wolf form and attack a prominent shifter, forcing that shifter to reveal his own identity as Isengrim killed him. His idea was that once the world knew we existed, he would already have demonstrated his power for all to see, and with his pack behind him, he would be the ultimate leader. It had nothing to do with what was good for shifters, but about how much power Isengrim could keep for himself.”
“So you believe you should remain underground?”
“I do,” Ryan said. “But then, I prefer to be on my own, hiding away in my house. I don’t want people beating down the door asking for interviews or wanting me to go on TV. They do that enough as it is.”
“They do?”
Ryan ignored my question. “If there was ever a really solid case for it, a case that didn’t support some megalomaniac, I would possibly support it. There’s a lot of crime that goes on in the shifter world, a lot of territorial disputes that result in fatalities. When you’re invisible, you can do whatever you want without consequence, like kidnapping people’s mothers and terrorising innocent women.”
I turned to Marcus. “And you?”
“Why should we hide?” Marcus said, his mouth full of sandwich. “I want to stand. If we were free, then it wouldn’t be pureblood shifters like Ryan dictating how everyone was treated.”
“I don’t dictate anything.”
“You don’t disagree, though, do you?”
“You can’t help what you are, Marcus. But that does come with certain issues that have to be controlled, or else you’re a danger—”
Marcus shot me a look. “They said the same thing about segregation, didn’t they? Even among shifters there are outcasts, don’t forget that.”
I remembered that Marcus was a mutt, whatever that really meant. I wanted to ask him more about it, but he seemed so agitated, I didn’t want to risk further setting him off.
“So is shifter society a bit like the wizarding world in Harry Potter? Do you have your own schools and newspapers and weird sporting tournaments?”
The front door banged. “Honey, I’m home.”
Caleb. He’s okay!
My curiosity forgotten, I leapt from my seat and darted into the hall. I was so desperate to see him, I accidentally upset a bowl of crystals on the stand by the door.
“Oops.” My face flushed red as tiny rocks skittered across the floor. A black cat leapt out from under the table and started batting them around.
“Don’t worry about that, dear.” Clara hunched over and started collecting the rocks. “Go see your wolf.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I bounded into the hall, where Caleb and Luke were pulling on their shirts over their bare chests. I fell into Caleb’s arms, placing my hands against his skin, breathing in the woody, earthy scent of him. That grin of his melted my heart, and I realised how much I’d been worried that he wouldn’t come back, especially since I’d received that text message. Caleb started to say something, but I pressed my lips to his, drowning out his words with my tongue.
“Now that’s what I call a greeting,” Caleb said, pulling away slightly to look at me. “You okay?”
“As okay as could be expected. I think you’re right about Clara being a witch. She drugged me, and now she’s trying to fatten me up, probably so I’ll taste better in a pie.”
“I think you’d taste delicious in a pie.” He nibbled on my lip.
“That’s the way to a girl’s heart – cannibalism jokes.” I stroked his cheek. “Seriously, though, are you okay? Did you find them?”
“We found them all right,” Caleb said, his voice dark. “They’ve been holed up in an abandoned cabin only a few miles from yours.”
“Did they—”
“Caleb, Clara’s made food!” Luke’s voice called from the kitchen.
“Great. I’m starving.”
“Hence the cannibalism.” I dropped his hand and led him into the kitchen, where Luke was already deep in conversation with Ryan. Clara shoved Caleb down into a seat and set a cup of tea and a pile of butties and sausages in front of him, but he didn’t move to take them.
“We took them by surprise,” Luke was saying as he shovelled down a mouthful of egg. “There was a hole in the roof of the shack, so Caleb climbed up there, while I went around the front and lured Robbie out. Caleb sank his teeth right into Angus’ neck—”
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” As much as I hated Angus for what he was trying to do to me and Caleb, I didn’t want Caleb to be responsible for killing his brother.
“No. We just convinced them it would be in their best interests to leave our territory,” Luke said. He turned to each person at the table in turn. “Caleb may have implie
d that he had a whole pack here ready to defend Rosa if they had to.”
“Why would you do that?” I glanced at Caleb in surprise. “What if they come back? You don’t have a whole pack. It’s just you and Luke.”
“Correction.” Ryan set down his fork. “There’s a few more of us than that.”
Caleb looked at Ryan with an expression I can only describe as awe. “Really?”
“Really. If you’ll have us.” Ryan wiped his mouth. “I’ve decided I’m through hiding away for now. I’ve got Alex to think about, and whether I like it or not, she wants to be out in the world, and that means many eyes are on us. I don’t want to be trapped and I want to know I have friends I can count on if anyone like Isengrim threatens her again. Marcus and I have already discussed it. If you Lowe boys will have us, we’d love to help you keep Crookshollow safe from the likes of the Macleans.”
“And me too, dear,” Clara said, setting down a second plate of bacon in front of Marcus.
“You mean, we need to keep Crookshollow safe from you?” Ryan grinned.
Clara clapped him around the ears. “I mean, if you’ll take an old witch with a gammy hip in your pack, I’d love to help in any way I can.”
Caleb was beaming. He turned to me, as though he was expecting me to add my voice to the mix. I’m in, Caleb. I’ll be your mate. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t make the words come out.
It felt too much like commitment – saying I was willing to be something to him, and he was something to me, and I just couldn’t do it. The words didn’t exist yet. They had burned up in the fire with Lennox, carried away by the winds with the ashes of my life.
I bent my head, chewing on a loose piece of bacon, feeling Caleb’s eyes burning into my skull. I’m sorry. I wish I could be with you, but I’m too scared.
An uncomfortable silence descended, which everyone tried to fill with chewing. I jiggled my foot nervously, wishing I could make a run for it and not have to sit here being the only one who wasn’t in it.
“You boys look awful,” Clara scolded, grabbing Luke’s arm and indicating a long cut along his bicep. Nice one, Clara.
“Way to stroke a man’s ego,” Luke shot back.
“Ryan, get my first aid kit.” The red-haired man got up, and rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, before planting a large wooden box down on the table. Clara opened it and I peered inside, expecting to see bandages, saline, and paracetamol. Instead, rows of glass vials stood in perfect rows, and a small mortar and pestle were nestled into the corner.
Clara selected several vials, dumping the contents into the mortar. She mumbled to herself as she worked, though I wasn’t sure if I recognised any words. She pulled an oil decanter off the shelf above the stove, added a couple of drops, and then proceeded to crush the herbs together with short, deft twists. She smeared the resulting paste on Luke’s cuts.
“Thanks a lot.” Luke wrinkled his nose. “Now I smell like a stew.”
“Stop your complaining.” Clara moved around the table. “It’s your cousin’s turn.”
Caleb leaned back and tugged down the collar of his shirt so Clara could apply the cream to the cuts across his chest. His eyes met mine, and I caught a flash of pain. I knew I was the cause of that pain.
I’m sorry, Caleb. I really am.
The pain was gone in a flash, replaced by Caleb’s wicked smile and sparkling gaze. He looked down at the cuts on his shoulder, the lines crisscrossing the nearly healed bite marks from his first altercation with Angus. “Don’t look so worried, Rosa. Werewolves heal quickly, especially if they’re covered with Clara’s special bouquet garni. Trust me, Angus looks way worse.”
“You mean they’re gone for good?” The text message flashed before my eyes again.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Caleb said. “But they won’t be back any time soon, and it will take them some days to return to Aberdeen with additional muscle.”
I reached into my pocket and closed my fingers around my phone, the message burning in my eyes. I opened my mouth to tell him about the text, but something stopped me. I glanced around the table at this happy family of shifters, and I realised that I didn’t want them all to know. I didn’t want to say the words “black bitch” in front of Clara and Ryan and have them believe it. Besides, it was just Angus, trying to get to me since Caleb sent him packing. I resolved to tell Caleb as soon as we were alone, but for now, there wasn’t any reason to draw attention to it. I dropped the phone back into my pocket, and reached for my lukewarm tea.
I realised Caleb was talking “—in the meantime, I think we should try to find out exactly why the Bairds want me.”
“How do we do that?” I asked, trying to bring myself back into the conversation.
“You don’t do anything,” Caleb said. “You go to your cabin, and work on your book. You’ve already been inconvenienced enough with all this drama. Let me and the pack handle it.” There was a hardness in his voice that hadn’t been there earlier.
“You mean, my cabin is safe now? I don’t have to share it with everyone?”
Caleb nodded. “Luke and I even checked it out on the way over here, just in case they’d left some kind of trap. But it’s fine. We’ll keep an eye on you from a distance. You should be able to get a ton of work done.”
“Thank you. Thank you, all of you.” I looked around the table, at all these people who hardly knew me, yet who had risked their lives and their home to keep me safe. A lump rose in my throat. What I would’ve given to have people like this in my life back in Old Garsmouth.
And Caleb … what if I had met him last year, before Sam walked into the office, before my life got completely messed up. I shook off the thought. You didn’t meet him then, you met him now. And you have to deal with what that means.
“You’re welcome.” Ryan beamed.
“Yeah,” Caleb said, an edge on his voice. I glanced up at him, but he looked away.
We stayed at Clara’s house for another couple of hours, chatting around the table like old friends. Well, the boys chatted, and Clara bustled around with yet more food. I mostly sipped tea and listened. I didn’t feel much like talking.
Caleb walked me back to the car. My stomach knotted. I felt his disappointment seeping off him, dissipating the special energy that usually sizzled between us. He opened the door, and as I turned to get in, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.
“Hey.” He wiped away a strand of hair that had escaped from my bun. His eyes were kind again, but sad.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know what you were asking back there, but I just can’t—”
“It’s okay, Rosa.”
“It’s not, though. You’ve been so kind to me, Caleb. You only met me four days ago, and you’ve turned your whole life upside down to protect me. And all the others … they don’t even … they can’t … and yet they’re …” The lump rose higher. I gulped, dangerously close to losing it. “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”
“Dear Rosa.” Caleb kissed my eyelids. “Of course you deserve it. Everyone deserves to feel safe, to live a peaceful life without a crazy wolf trying to kidnap them. Even if I didn’t feel for you … what I feel, I would still be protecting you, because what my stepbrothers are trying to do is wrong.”
I gulped again. A tear escaped the corner of my eye and slid down my cheek. Caleb kissed it away. The gesture was so simple, but the power of it made my whole chest ache.
“Come here.” He rested my head on his shoulder, his fingers playing in my hair. “One day, I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me what has hurt you so bad, but in the meantime, don’t worry about me. Yes, I’m hurt you don’t want to be my mate, but—”
“It’s not that.” I sniffed, tears coming thick and fast now, staining the collar of Caleb’s shirt.
“It is that. You’re not ready. I’ll wait for you, Rosa. I’ll wait as long as you need. But sometimes, I’m allowed to be a little gutted you’re not ready now, okay? I’m not exactly kn
own for my patience.”
I laughed, hiccuping into Caleb’s shoulder. God, I was a total mess.
“There’s that laugh I love so much.” Caleb’s arms slid away, and he studied my face with concern. “You gonna be okay up there on your own?”
I thought about the text message in my pocket, but decided not to bother him about it. “Yeah.” I smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll take you out to dinner. We could have an actual date, no homicidal werewolves or meddling pack-mates allowed.”
“I’d like that.” A date with Caleb. It sounded like such a wonderfully normal thing, and yet, totally and utterly magical.
I drove back to Margaret’s place. It felt odd to be stepping out of the car on my own, without my handsome wolfish escort. But this was exactly as it should be. Caleb had got rid of the threat, so I could be alone again.
Alone.
I stepped onto the path leading out to my cabin, glancing around the trees. My stomach tightened in knots. I started moving forward, at any moment expecting the wolves to jump out and attack me.
But none did.
Ahead of me, the familiar slope of my cabin’s roof became visible through the trees. The chairs were still set out on the porch, just as we’d left them. The beer bottles Luke and I (mostly Luke) had emptied stood in a row along the centre of the small table. I took out the key from my pocket and held it up. Dappled sunlight streaked through the trees and glinted off the metal. My cabin, the freedom I had bought from the evil that had been done to me.
Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get back to my book.
I leapt up the steps, and thrust my key into the lock. I pushed the door open and scanned the room, checking for anyone – or anything – hiding inside. That SMS from this morning still had me a little freaked out, even though I knew it was just Angus, lashing out even as he was forced to retreat.
Satisfied my cabin was absolutely empty, I strolled in, slamming the door behind me. My laptop sat on the desk by the window, begging me for attention. I made a pot of tea, and sat down to write.
Today, the words flowed as they never had before. Armed with the knowledge that my wolfish pursuers were, for now, neutralised, and that Caleb was trying to be patient with me, I could slip back into the world of Old Garsmouth, and the person I was when I first encountered Sam Seymour.
Writing the Wolf: A wolf shifter paranormal romance (Wolves of Crookshollow Book 2) Page 11