by C. Larsen
My stomach twists. Running around Haven Hollow as a wolf... No one would be safe from me.
"Yeah, well, with all the crazy folks in town hunting for mountain lions, I doubt we could’ve done much running,” I say. “Besides, this is only temporary. Once they’re sure I'm not gonna go rabid I'll be able to come back."
"I'm going to miss you, Em," she says. "Raise some hell out there then hurry back."
"Always. Love ya' Liv. And do me a favor? Don't mention this to anyone, okay?"
"Anyone like who? Sebastian? He already knows. James had to order him not to drive directly out to Ashwood to see you he was so excited. In fact, he would have called, but James wouldn't let him. Told him to leave you alone for a while. No idea why, but I'm sure you'll hear from him soon."
"No, that's not it," I say interrupting her. "I mean Arianna and the rest of the coven. They don't know yet, and as far as they're concerned, I'm up here to train with Madelyn's coven, got it?"
"Oh, yeah. Got it. Ha!" She laughs suddenly. "I can just imagine what that bunch of uptight witches are going to say when they find out you're a werewolf!"
"I have enough enemies without adding to them," I say, not laughing. "Besides, if they find out what I am, it could jeopardize the truce. Once I'm able to control my shifts,"—if I'm able to control my shifts—"then we'll figure out the best way to approach the coven about it. Until then, you can't tell any of them."
Olivia laughs. "Yeah, sure. But I still can't wait to see their faces when you tell them."
After hanging up, I gather up everything I need and head for the shower. The bathroom is just as decadent as the rest of the mansion, complete with granite sink counter tops, a Jacuzzi tub and a huge glassed-in shower that can fit six people, easy.
A girl could get used to this.
By the time Gray knocks on my door, I've blown out my hair and curled it, putting half of it up and leaving the rest of it in spirals to hang down around my shoulders.
When I open the door, I almost step back in shock. He's dressed to the nine's wearing a black tux, complete with a crisp white shirt, bow tie and black jacket, fitted perfectly to show off the powerful build of his chest and shoulders.
I'm glad I took the time to style my hair.
"This should fit," he says, handing me a full length white ball gown with intricate beading along the bust. The delicate silk fabric of the long skirt flows like water through my hands.
"Whose is this?"
"I borrowed it from Isabel. You'll meet her tonight. Go ahead," he says when I hesitate. "It should fit; you two are about the same size."
I take the dress from his arms and head to the bathroom to change, my mind a whirl. Just how formal is this dinner? Based on this dress and Gray's tuxedo, I'd say it's a lot fancier than any dinner I've ever been to.
The silky dress feels fantastic over my skin, and it looks to be about the right length, though it smells weird. Not bad, just different. I’m guessing it’s Isabel’s scent, seeing as it’s her dress and all, but it’s still weird to notice such things.
I exit the bathroom, holding the front of the dress to my chest with one hand.
Gray's eyes widen when he sees me. I turn around, showing him my back.
"Do you mind zipping me up? I can’t reach," I say, shifting uncomfortably.
"Mind? Hell, I insist." He gives me one of his usual flirtatious grins, but his voice is deeper than normal, rougher.
His fingers graze down along my spine, sending shivers over my skin. He pulls the zipper up slowly, his warm fingers tracing the path up my back ahead of the zipper, taking an unnecessarily long time about it.
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “I’m getting old over here, Gray. Any chance you’ll be finished before dinner ends?”
“You can’t rush these things,” he says, finally pulling the zipper all the way to the top and hooking the clasp.
When I turn around the look in his eyes makes my breath stall in my lungs.
He smiles, breaking the heated silence. "Come on. Time to meet everyone."
My heart hammers in my chest. I don't know if I'm ready for this.
Gray's hand envelopes my own, filling me with warmth.
"Come on, volchonok. It'll be painless. Well, mostly..."
He leads me down the long hallway. "My room is this one here, in case you need me," he says, motioning to a room a few doors down from mine. "Feel free to come see me whenever you want, early in the morning, middle of the night..." he says with a wink. “I'll even be nice enough to share my bed, unlike some people."
That pulls a smile from my tight lips. "Not a chance, Gray," I say and he grins.
Gray continues to ramble on about the house and the pack on the way down. I’m only half listening. Finally, curiosity gets the best of me and I ask him about the scary older werewolf I saw downstairs. The one with the cold, steely gaze and intense power.
Gray's lips pull down in the corners. "You probably mean Ivan. My grandfather."
I blink in surprise. Grandfather? He doesn’t look all that much older than Nikolay. But then Caiden did mention that werewolves have longer life spans than humans. I wonder how old Ivan is, and if his age has something to do with his strength. Anyone looking at him can tell how much stronger he is than Nikolay. Why isn't he Alpha instead?
When I ask Gray this, his lips thin and I get a faint whiff of burnt toast. Anger maybe? "Ivan’s only visiting; he's Alpha of his own pack in Russia. He isn't part of Silver Ridge."
Something in his tone, or maybe his scent, tells me that there's a lot he isn't saying.
"Well, that's a relief," I say to break the tension. "No offense, but he's scary as hell."
"Don’t worry, he’s staying in the other wing of the house, where Nikolay lives. You don't have to worry about running into either of them very often."
"The other wing?"
"You'll be glad of it, trust me. If you want to avoid being overheard every minute of the day, you need a large house.” He gestures to the doors we pass by. “The rest of the rooms on this side are guestrooms. Sometimes other pack members stay here overnight, especially if someone gets injured and needs a place to convalesce."
I nod numbly. There must be at least ten bedrooms in this wing alone and only Gray and Nikolay live here? The rest are guestrooms? Damn. And I thought my house was lonely. At least I see my dad in the mornings for coffee. In a house this size, I'd be surprised if Gray sees his father more than once a week.
My shoulders tense at the thought of my dad. Turning my thoughts away from him, I focus instead on trying to memorize the way through the labyrinth of hallways back to my room.
Gray leads me downstairs, pointing out the kitchen and formal dining room. By the time we enter a huge living room—which he calls the Den—I begin to think I may need a map to find my way around. Inside the Den there are at least twenty pack members hanging around, all dressed up in tuxedos and ball gowns.
“Every Saturday the whole pack gets together for dinner at the Alpha's house,” Gray says. “Everyone usually gathers here to hang out, talk and play games beforehand. Afterward, we go for a run." Excitement shines from his eyes.
"But today's Sunday, not Saturday."
"Yeah, but tonight’s a special occasion. Saturday dinners aren’t usually this formal."
Gray begins pointing out some of the people around us, introducing them. I wave to them all, their names flying out of my head as soon as I hear them. Most of the names have a distinctive Russian sound to them, but then Gray did say his father grew up there. I try to remember at least a few names, but as Gray continues to make introductions it's all I can do to smile and nod.
In the back of the room I notice the older man from before: Ivan. He's standing back by the wall, eerie eyes pinned on me. Though his irises have the same silvery coloring as Nikolay's and Gray's, his have a hard edge to them. An inhuman, pitiless look, like he's seen and done so many terrible things he no longer has the capacity for compa
ssion or any other human feeling. The eyes looking out are pure animal, with no trace of the human whose body it's occupying.
Behind him and slightly to the left is another man, this one much younger. It's obvious he's strong, but unlike the other weres' in the room, I can't get a definitive feel for his dominance. He stares ahead, eyes not focused on any one person as far as I can tell. He hovers behind Ivan, watching the entire room, like a huge, hulking shadow.
Ivan and his shadow creep me out, so I turn my back on them and try to focus on the last of the introductions.
A young boy no older than nine shuffles up, looking adorable in his miniature tuxedo. His wild, unkempt black hair makes me imagine Gray at that age.
"Em, this here is Max." Gray's voice is warm as he makes the introductions and a sweet scent envelopes me, reminding me of daffodils in spring.
Love, whispers my wolf.
I start, shocked by the intrusion and the strange sensation of sharing my mind with another, but I do my best to ignore it and focus on the young boy in front of me.
"Hi Max, I'm Emerson."
"I know. I saw you in the woods at the fight. You healed Miles."
"What?" I ask, taken aback. "You were at the battle that night?" What the hell? I look at Gray.
*Why would a child have been at a battle like that?* I ask him telepathically.
*He may look like a child, but he's a werewolf, and the only way for a young were' to learn is to participate in hunts and territory fights. Don't look so scandalized, luna. That's the way it's done in the pack. Coddling him would only hurt him in the long run, and I'm sure his father kept him well away from any real danger. Grant’s very protective.*
I look back at the young boy. Big blue eyes almost too large for his face stare up at me, bright with curiosity.
"Are you really a witch and a werewolf?" he asks.
A hush falls over the room as everyone waits for my answer. I wonder what they've been told about me. Madelyn said half-bloods are extremely rare in our world, and by the expression on everyone's face right now, I don't think they know what to believe.
"Yeah," I answer, looking back to Max. "Turns out I am."
"Wow..." He looks up at me, eyes wide in wonder. "So, who's your dad, then? Is he in this pack?"
The room grows even quieter, if possible. A sharp scent permeates the room, reminding me of sweat and onions. Until Max asked this, the thought never even crossed my mind. But if, like my dream suggested, Roman is my real father, then he'd be here. He was a part of the pack. My gaze darts around the room, studying the faces around me, trying to remember if any of them were named Roman.
Everyone just stares back, and it feels like the room collectively holds its breath, waiting for my answer.
"Roman, I think."
Bodies shift, eyes that moments ago were glued to me shift to the side.
"Is he here?" I ask the room at large. "Is Roman here?"
The sharp scent intensifies, nearly making my eyes water. When no one answers, I turn my question to Max, the only one in the pack innocent enough, or brave enough, to ask me questions no one else will.
"Max? Do you know Roman?"
The smell of fresh rain on damp soil surrounds him. "Roman’s gone."
"What happened to him?" Now I glance at Gray, and for the first time he avoids my gaze.
Max shrugs, his eyes sad. "He left a long time ago. That's all I know."
"Come on, Max. The air hockey table’s open." A big, burly man steps forward to lead him away.
*Gray?* I arch my brows at him, still waiting for an explanation.
*Roman left the pack shortly after Elizabeth ran away,* he says gruffly.
*Why? Where did he go?*
*I don’t know, luna. I never knew him. Maybe some of the older weres’ know more. We can ask around later if you want.*
Everyone else moves away, resuming their earlier positions around the room. Some lounge on couches flicking through channels on the huge flat screen on the wall, others cluster in groups, laughing and slapping each other on the back. I even spy a ping pong table, some arcade games and a billiard table on the far end of the Den, the rhythmic twang of a ping pong ball and the harsher crack of a billiard cue against pool balls echoing through the room.
What the hell? Why didn't Gray tell me earlier what happened to Roman? And why didn't I think to ask? He left? What does that mean? Did he join a different pack? Can I go visit him? Does he even know about me?
"Hi, there," a girl about my age says, interrupting my thoughts. Her bright blue eyes, the color of Forget-Me-Nots, size me up. And though I don't consciously do it, I can feel my wolf sizing her up as well. She's slight, but I instinctively know she's strong. Very strong. But unlike with Nikolay, I don't feel any urge to cower or lower my eyes. I hold her Forget-Me-Not gaze and watch in fascination as she lowers her eyes, bowing her head to show me she's no threat.
The whole episode is so surreal I feel like shaking myself. I never believed Caiden or any of the others when they told me that werewolves were animals at their core. I thought they were exaggerating, making up stories out of fear. But now I know better. We are animals. Dominance and strength, sizing up threats. It's all so primitive. Savage.
But as the girl lifts her head and gives me a bright, relaxed smile, I realize it's also a lot more honest. There's no duplicity or false smiles. Everyone knows where they stand, knows their place in the pack. Once the hierarchy is established, like between me and blue-eyes here, the tension is gone and we can move on.
After all the lies and deceit of the last few weeks, the simplicity of it is refreshing.
"Welcome, Emerson. I'm Isabel." She smiles again, and I find myself returning the gesture. "Gray's told me so much about you."
I look over my shoulder at Gray. He stands there, watching the encounter, a look of satisfaction on his lips. For a moment, I'm surprised he didn't step in during our brief dominance battle, but then I remind myself that this is Gray, not Caiden. Gray seems content to let me fight my own battles, confident in the knowledge that if I need his help, I'll ask for it. I feel my face pull up into a grin, my gaze holding his a moment longer than necessary before I turn back to Isabel.
“Hi Isabel. I guess I have you to thank for this dress?” I gesture to the ball gown draped elegantly around me. “It’s beautiful. I really appreciate it. When I packed to come here, I had no idea I’d need anything like this.”
She smiles, looking genuinely pleased.
Next to her, a guy with spiky black hair and shy brown eyes stares openly at me.
"Em, this is Miles,” Gray says. “Miles, meet Emerson,"
"Hey Miles," I say, giving him a wave. His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, a sign of submission, before meeting mine once again. I don't recall ever seeing him before, but something about him feels familiar. I study him, looking for clues. "Have we met?"
He gives me a half smile. "Not officially." I cock my head, not understanding. "You saved my ass last weekend."
Recognition sparks. "Miles? Right. You and Melanie had a, uh... misunderstanding."
"If that's what you call it when someone stabs you repeatedly in the gut." He shakes his head ruefully.
"Well, that was a crazy night..."
"Yeah. I never got a chance to thank you for that, so, thanks. If you hadn't stepped in when you did, I'd probably have died."
"You don't have to thank me for anything. You guys saved me from Caroline first; I was just repaying the favor."
Miles grins and Gray slaps him on the back. "Just try not to get gored anymore, will ya'? Twice in one month is pushing it."
"Twice?" I ask.
Gray laughs and explains, "This pup got himself gored by a buck a few weeks back. Nearly died then, too."
"Thanks for that, brother," Miles says, turning a light shade of pink. "Way to make me look manly in front of the ladies."
Gray winks at me before answering. "Better look elsewhere for a lady to impress with your manlines
s. I’ve already staked a claim on this one."
I elbow Gray in the stomach and give him an indignant look. “ ‘Staked a claim'? What the hell does that mean?”
Gray grins with a devilish glint in his eyes. "I'd be happy to show you. Just say the word."
"Emerson," a snide voice interrupts, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
I turn to see blonde boy with a sneer on his face standing near Isabel. By the way she shifts her body slightly away, I have the feeling she doesn't like him any more than I do.
"So you're the reason Gray’s spent so much time away from Ashwood. Away from his pack. Interesting." His eyes travel up and down my body, and I feel my wolf's hackles rise.
For the first time since my change, when I feel my wolf stir in response to an unspoken threat, I give in to the feeling. Not too much. Not enough to force another change. But enough that I can feel her peering out through my eyes.
When his gaze finally raises enough to meet mine, he studies my eyes, his own narrowing slightly. "Very interesting."
I continue to hold his gaze, my wolf refusing to break eye contact first. When a growl begins deep in my chest, he finally looks away, but only to glance at Isabel next to me.
If anything, this seems to piss my wolf off even more. I get the impression that this was intentional on his part. He couldn’t hold my stare, but he wouldn't submit either. It was a direct slight, a refusal to acknowledge my wolf's dominance over his, but done in such a way that my wolf can't continue the battle without looking weak.
“What do you want, Zak?” Isabel asks, sounding bored, though her muscles are tight with tension.
"What do you make of this half-breed?” he asks her. “Looks like she's already taken your place." He glances meaningfully at Gray.
He doesn't mean... Gray and Isabel?
I look back at Isabel, whose eyes are narrowed at Zak. My chest pulls tight, but I do my best to ignore it. I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s beautiful. Of course Gray dated her. In fact, he’s probably been with every female in this room.