Silver Wolf Clan

by Shanley, Tera

  His directness only made him more attractive, if that were even possible. He took the dripping clothes from her and tossed them into the dryer with his own. She wrapped her arms around herself, and he offered a warm blanket and started two mugs of hot chocolate in the small microwave that took up most of his counter space.

  Oceans of questions stretched between them, but she was at a complete loss as to where to start. Should she try and get to know the Grey before he’d become a werewolf, or the Grey after? And out of the trillion questions she had bouncing around, which did she decide to pluck from the muck and go with?

  “You hungry?” he asked, pulled out a chair at the small two-person dining table for her and then rummaged through the fridge.

  Whoever had been cooking for him knew their way around a kitchen. He’d reheated piles of lasagna, vegetables and garlic bread onto oversized plates. It would take three days to eat that much. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind finishing off what she couldn’t, though where the man put that food, she hadn’t a guess.

  Throughout lunch, his eyes changed color like a mood ring she’d worn in third grade. They stayed mainly gold but every once in a while, turned the deep ocean blue she remembered from the night she first met him. She became enamored with catching the moment his eyes shifted to that human color, which he didn’t seem to mind. He apparently didn’t see the need to try and excuse his realities away.

  “Why do your eyes go to blue, and gold, and back so much?” she asked.

  He threw a napkin he’d been using over his empty plate and leaned back in the chair until it squeaked against the abuse. “For whatever reason, I don’t have control over my wolf like most werewolves do. Wolf is a separate personality in there, always pushing for attention, action, chaos, fighting…sex. The gold is him, the blue is me. We should be more as one. Normal werewolves only switch eye color when they’re Changing, or really upset. It’s rare to see a wolf color on a man’s face. I’m a freak, but I won’t ever hurt you. Other people who try to hurt you? I can’t guarantee their safety though,” he said with an apologetic smile.

  Oh, she believed him. Not a fiber in her being doubted he would’ve killed her attacker last week. What did it say about her, that she couldn’t really find anything wrong with that?

  An alarm clock on the floor by his bed beeped that it was eleven o’clock. Was that the time already? “Lana’s with my mom and I need to go pick her up. I don’t want them worrying about me.”

  “Lana lives with you?”

  “Yeah, I’m her guardian now. Her dad signed his rights over right after she was born and Marianna put it in her will that I would take care of her baby if anything ever happened. I don’t mind, actually. I love her, and Marianna should be the one here taking care of her, so—” She shrugged away burning tears. “I owe them both.”

  His gaze was steady and sincere. “Lana is lucky to have you. Morgan, I know we have things to talk about, and we both have questions. I think we should go to dinner. Would you like to go to dinner with me? We could talk more, and it would give me an excuse to see you before next Tuesday.”

  “I knew you were watching me! I felt it but could never find you. How long?”

  His smile was unapologetic. “I just found you a few weeks ago. Dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, but how about I cook for you? My place around seven? That way I don’t have to find a babysitter for Lana and she can meet the man who saved our lives. Get ready. She loves dogs.”

  A chuckle came from him, a rich warm sound. That he could laugh at himself seemed to surprise him as much as her. He jotted down her number and address on the back of a scrap of paper then pulled her clothes from the dryer. As his finger brushed her outstretched palm, he inhaled sharply. She smiled shyly and pulled the clothes away. Her palm tingled where he’d touched it, and a huge urge for honesty willed her into action. If he knew how much a stroke of his skin affected her, he’d bolt for sure. He really didn’t need to learn of her devoted level of obsession with him on their first kind-of date. “I really should get going.”

  “I’ll pull my truck around front and give you a ride to yours.”

  Dressed and warm again, she ran for the large charcoal gray truck parked out front. Rain battered the windshield and created tiny water explosions against the glass. Water ran in a miniature river down the uneven sidewalk, and she laughed as she splashed through it in newly dry clothes. Of course. His answering smile was mesmerizing.

  Leaning over, he pushed the passenger door open when she was close. Remnants of a self-deprecating smile pulled the corners of her lips. Humor swam in his golden gaze. Tiny drops of water clung to the ends of dark tendrils of hair in front of her face, and for a moment, she thought he would tuck them behind her ear. Instead, he dropped his eyes. Disappointment caused her to reach for the safety of his hand. Like a coward, she didn’t look at his face to see if her touch made him uncomfortable. He didn’t flinch away. Good enough.

  Scared of how badly she wanted to kiss his lips, she slid from the truck, waved and gave him a smile instead.

  Sliding into the cab of her truck, loneliness surrounded her and coolness settled over her skin. As she pulled away, he stayed there, watching her through the window with an unfathomable expression. Long after she’d left, her palm stayed warm from him holding it. No matter what happened next, her life had just improved tenfold, and she hoped against hope he felt the same.

  Chapter 6

  Grey was a nervous wreck. After a morning run didn’t help, he drove to Dean’s house. He’d lain awake the night before, thinking of ways to make himself less dangerous for the first date with Morgan, and a Change would likely do him good. The kiss-and-strangle move with Alexis was something he couldn’t quite shake. Wolf couldn’t be allowed to do the same to Morgan.

  Just another reminder he wasn’t in control, and had to be, around her and Lana.

  The thought of meeting Lana excited and terrified him in turn. Kids had always reserved a special soft spot in his heart, and he was good with them when he was human, but how would Wolf feel about another man’s offspring? Maybe if he catered to Wolf the first part of the day, the beast within might let him have a good night. So a run and a hunt it was—two out of three of a werewolf’s favorite things.

  As he pulled up to Dean’s house, two wolves snarled and fought in the side yard. Dean watched from the porch, arms crossed over his chest, disapproval on his face like it had been etched in stone. One dark gray wolf, and one gold. Why were Logan and Jason fighting? They weren’t play-fighting as the wolves often did, but it wasn’t all out war yet, either. Definitely headed toward serious, though.

  Grey jumped the porch steps two at a time. “What’s the problem?” he asked the stone-still alpha.

  “It’s about Marissa,” Dean said in a thick voice. “Thankfully, she’s in school and Rachel is in town so they don’t have to see this. It’s getting worse, Grey. Wolves are never Turned this young, and Marissa still has a long time before she needs to start worrying about choosing a mate. The boys don’t see it that way, though. They don’t want her now. She’s still so young, but they think she should go ahead and choose, and her mate should be one of them.”

  “What about sending her to another pack?”

  “It would be more of the same, worse probably, because she wouldn’t have Alexis to act as a buffer. She would likely be one of two females, if not the only one, in another pack. And Rachel sees her as a daughter. Hell, I do too. She doesn’t have biological parents. Both are dead, and we looked for close family but she hasn’t got any. She’s our only shot at raising a kid. I couldn’t send her away, knowing we couldn’t see her anymore. I keep laying down orders for them, but trouble’s coming.”

  Grey leaned against the porch railing and watched the escalating fight. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, though.”

  “Will do. You out for a run?” Dean asked, dragging his at
tention away from the scuffle.

  “Yep. I’ve got a date tonight. She’s special. I met her before all of…this,” he said, waving his arm. “She is the one I was asking you and Rachel about.”

  “Bring her flowers, then, and don’t screw it up. Are you going to bring her by to meet everyone?” Dean asked.

  “No. I don’t want her involved with this part of my life. The relationship, it’s still new. And please don’t say anything to anyone. The last thing I need is for Alexis to get wind of this and cause trouble.”

  “You got it.” Dean grinned. “But you know sooner or later she’s going to have to know about this part of you if she is special like you say.”

  “Later is fine with me,” Grey said as he pulled his shirt over his head.

  He shed the rest of his clothes and tossed them in the back of the truck, then headed for his favorite Changing place. Logan and Jason had finished fighting, and he skirted Jason, who lay in the sun, tongue lolled out to the side and panting. Logan was nowhere to be seen. He could guess who’d won that round.

  He lay behind a trio of mulberry bushes, and waited as the familiar tingling rippled over his flesh. Why was it taking so long? When he wanted, he could Change in a moment. Most of the wolves in Dean’s pack gave him grief for his quick transformations. Theirs took minutes, sometimes longer. He was lucky, they said, but it didn’t help him, lying in the shadow of the brush with his skin slowly changing and pulsing into something other. Agony, a deep and lonely pain, filled the deepest and darkest crevices in his head. Morgan’s hand in his—just the thought of her skin against his slowed the transition to an agonizing crawl. Pitch black fur appeared in waves over his flesh, disappeared, and returned.

  What was he doing, exposing them to this life? Marissa had a hard enough time with it. How could he bring that little baby, Lana, into pack life? She and Morgan were weak and human, unable to defend themselves from the monsters that dwelled here. They were the same monsters that had killed Marianna, and he shouldn’t expose them to that. What kind of selfish creature would ask them to be okay with any of it? A groan escaped him in the seconds before he slipped into his new form.

  Things were easier as a wolf. Human needs got pushed to the back burner. As Wolf, running and finding food became more important than the constant mental jargon he faced in human form. No thinking, just hunt and run. Now that, he could do.

  With the rejuvenating run finished, he waved good-bye to Dean and drove back into town. First thing was first. He walked to a flower shop a few blocks away from the apartment. He hadn’t ever been on a bring-flowers-to-the-front-door kind of date, and ended up spending way too long in the flower shop trying to find something Morgan would like. Then at the last minute, he veered into a local grocer, picked up wine for him and Morgan and a bottle of sparkling grape juice for Lana.

  In his apartment, showered and having shaved, he messed with his hair until, after a few minutes, he gave up and ran his hands back and forth through it. Messy look as usual, then. He pulled on jeans and a red thermal, long sleeved shirt. With flowers and drinks in hand, he headed to the address she’d given him.

  The drive from the apartment was only fifteen minutes, and as he pulled up and looked around the neighborhood, Wolf grew agitated. A single woman and child would not be safe here. Barely checked instincts screamed for him to get Morgan and the kid out of there. The house across the street had bars across the windows and two huge pit bulls guarding the front, barely kept in the yard by a deteriorating, lop-sided gate. He slid out of the truck, and the dogs went crazy. One bright eyed look and a menacing growl from him quieted them down fast enough. The yards were overgrown, except for Morgan’s, and every house was in desperate need of repair and new paint. He opened a wire-fence gate across the pathway, went through, and it screeched closed behind him. Maybe he was at the wrong house. He knocked, and Morgan came to the door, a dishtowel in her hand, Lana right behind her.

  “Hi, Grey,” she said shyly. “Come on in.”

  He held out the newspaper-wrapped pink tulips, which she accepted and thanked him for and smelled right away.

  “I tried to grow tulips last year in the front flower bed because they are my favorite. I think Lana and I over watered the bulbs, though, because they never came up.”

  A vision of her and Lana watering the plants with the little pink watering pail by the door and patiently waiting for them to bloom warmed him. He scooted past her into the small entryway, relieved he’d taken the extra time picking out the right flowers. The smile that clung to her lips as she looked at them made the effort worth it.

  “Lana, this is Grey,” Morgan said. “You might not remember him, but he is our friend.”

  Grey leaned down and offered his hand. Lana stared at him curiously. “Your eyes look funny.” She placed her petite palm in his.

  “They’re magic,” he said with a smile and a shake of her hand. That seemed a good enough explanation, because she giggled and hugged the back of Morgan’s legs.

  “Come on into the kitchen,” Morgan told him. “You can put the wine in the refrigerator. I’m almost done with dinner, if you want to hang out with me in there.”

  Black and white photos of Marianna and Lana lined the walls. He paused and looked at the woman’s face and waited for any feeling of recognition. He’d never seen her alive. The frozen, terrified face of his memory contrasted with the happy woman in the photos.

  Morgan disappeared around a walled-in stairway, and he hurried to catch up. When he came into the kitchen, Lana was already scurrying into a seat at the table in front of a pink plastic bowl of macaroni and cheese.

  “She couldn’t wait for dinner,” Morgan said with a smile for the toddler. “I think she’s on a growth spurt, the way she’s been eating lately.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling, kiddo. I eat a lot too.”

  He pulled a chair from the small eat-in kitchen set and relaxed beside the girl while Morgan finished cooking. Lana had inherited her mother and aunt’s dark hair, and she stared back at him with earnest, gray eyes.

  “So,” Grey said, searching for something to talk about. Small talk had never been his thing. “What do you do for fun?”

  “Besides boxing classes?” Morgan asked with a saucy grin as she turned a dial on the stove.

  “Yes, besides those.”

  Looking decidedly uncomfortable, her gaze darted to a large cupboard that stood against the furthest wall of the kitchen. “If I show you something, will you swear not to think I’m a psychopath?”

  Was she serious? He turned into a wolf and howled at the moon. The psychopath position in this relationship had been filled a year ago. “I swear.”

  She shot Lana a furtive glance, but the child was busy upending a juice box and squeezing it all over her dinner. Morgan reached for a red ceramic bowl labeled Sugar on the top of a cabinet, and plucked a tiny key from its innards. The lock on the cupboard clicked, and she turned before opening it. “You pinky swear?”

  The littlest finger of her left hand hovered in front of him as Morgan waited for him to lock his hand in hers. The urge to lean down and suck gently on her finger was enough that he hesitated. Just the thought of touching her aroused him. If she saw how affected he was, just staring at her small hand, if she glimpsed all the ways he wanted her hand to touch him, she’d never share the secrets of the cupboard with him. And suddenly, her mysteries seemed like they could save him. Inhaling to steady his breathing, he encircled her pinky with his and dragged his gaze to her. Her pupils dilated, and her lips opened slightly before she yanked her hand back. So she felt it, too.

  A slight tremor shook her touch as she pulled the door open. Inside, rows of samurai swords and blades that looked to be custom made were displayed with a sense of reverence. At the forefront were two worn machetes.

  Holy shit. Morgan just got hotter. “Do you know how to use any of them or do you just collect?”

  She studied him with wide eyes,
as if she were about to hand him a piece of her soul for safekeeping. “I can use them.”

  “Why would you need to use them?”

  “You asked me what I did for fun. I’ve trained in fighting since I was a kid. For fun.” She scrunched her face like she’d just admitted something embarrassing.

  “Why are you scared to tell people about this?”

  “Because I got burned. When I was a kid, the other girls were talking clothes and boys, and I was fighting competitively on the weekends. It was easier for people to understand me if that part of my life was separate.”

  He looked away, afraid if she saw the raw hope her admission had given him, she’d take it back. She’d just shared something real about herself, even scared he’d reject something that made her Morgan. The old blades in front were chipped and rusted, and hadn’t been cared for like the other gleaming weapons. “What do you have against your machetes?”

  She lifted her chin. “They were my father’s.”

  She didn’t offer more, and he got the feeling she’d close up if he pushed her on the topic, so instead he said, “I chase bunnies for fun.”

  Giggling, she pulled a hand over her mouth like she was trying to cover her surprise. Slowly so he wouldn’t frighten her, he pulled her palm away from her face. “Don’t hide your smile from me.”

  “I like bunnies too,” Lana chimed in. “Morgan takes me to the pet store to see them. She says it’s the poor people’s zoo.”

  Releasing her hand, he smiled at the little girl and sat beside her to discuss favorite pet store animals as Morgan pulled plates from the cabinet nearest them.

  “Morgan draws puppies and kitties whenever I want. See?” Lana gestured to the picture covered refrigerator. Smiling photos of the two of them held in place by colorful alphabet magnets peppered the glossy surface and sure enough, just under a calendar, was a sketched picture of a basket of kittens. The detail and depth of the image was amazing, down to every fine hair, and every quizzical feline expression.