Night Surrender

by Godiva Glenn

  “I can swim.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t need to.”

  After depositing her in bed, he returned to the couch. Recalling all the times he slept on a cold, hard forest floor that was more comfortable, he fluffed the throw pillows and took off his shirt and shoes. I can’t keep doing this.

  He sat on the couch but changed his mind and tossed the pillow on the floor. The carpet was scratchy but at least it wouldn’t kill his back.

  EIGHT

  “Wyatt?”

  His eyes popped open and he sat up to the sound of his name. Nancy was kneeling next to him, and she had a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sorry, I got a call this morning. They need me to look at a few things in the office.”

  “Oh, right.” He rubbed his eyes and checked his watch. It was a little after seven, which was earlier than he usually liked to rise on a Sunday.

  Nancy was fully dressed, complete with owl earrings. No sign of her loopy distress from the night before. He almost asked if it was a normal occurrence, but oddly, discussing her sleep habits felt more intimate than the sex they’d had.

  “I’ll head out then,” he said stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

  “No, it’s fine. Make yourself breakfast or whatever, I can leave my key.”

  But he hopped up anyways and stretched. His arms were high in the air when he realized he could feel her eyes on him, and sure enough, when he relaxed his stance, she was staring at his abs.

  “I… should probably check and see if work needs me too. Haven’t heard anything,” he lied.

  “You sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Maybe we can meet up for lunch? Or dinner?”

  Eventually, they’d need to talk. There was a discussion waiting to unfold, decisions to be made, he guessed. A hopeful voice in his head had told them that they could keep going and pretend nothing happened, but when had he ever had that sort of luck?

  “Of course. Shoot me a text or call.” He hurried and tugged his t-shirt on and stepped into his boots. “I shouldn’t be too busy.”

  She let him out and he headed to his car as she rushed to her own. Truthfully, he wanted the space. He drove to his motel room and changed his clothing before heading out for a run.

  He’d picked a motel on the outskirts of town, close to plenty of trees. A few beaten paths could be found amidst the sparse landscape, at exploring them gave him what he needed. Focus and distance.

  As lupine went, he was lucky, and he knew it. Most of his kind couldn’t be away from the pack, much less engulfed in the human world. Their wolves needed a pack and the bond with the land. Without that, they’d go crazy, and lose balance. Losing balance generally meant going full wolf and losing touch with their human side. It meant going feral. Feral wolves ended up dead, often after wreaking havoc on humans.

  It wasn’t a pleasant fate. There was a reason why they had developed their human forms, after all. The life of a wolf wasn’t safe, not in today’s world, and especially not for a lone wolf.

  Wyatt’s wolf was calm and steady. Perfect for running. All the more reason for him to feel a hint of panic now when he had the realization that his wolf wasn’t behaving in the usual manner. Before last night, he thought they were entirely on the same page.

  But his wolf had never come around with another human, and never in a million years would he have expected that side of himself to be tempted to mate one. He wanted his equal. His equal couldn’t be human. And his mom was already constantly hinting at wanting grandchildren.

  The emptiness that had been forming in the pit of his stomach had faded in the last few days, though. If it wasn’t because of Nancy, then what other explanation was there?

  As his feet pounded the hard dirt and dead leaves, he tried to place himself in his own shoes from a year ago and ask his past self’s advice. Am I losing it completely? Should I give up on this task and return home, even if I don’t feel ready?

  He had come to town with one purpose. Fix his shit. Whatever was developing with Nancy, it would never last, so he couldn’t give it any more energy. Once he was gone, he wouldn’t be back.

  Slowing to a stop, he took a deep breath. The trees and everything about this place smelled wrong. He wanted to be home. He wanted the touch of pack.

  His eyes lifted to the treetops and he held his breath as his heightened hearing let him know he was the only soul around for miles. He shook out his arms and stretched his neck. No one to catch him. It was time to do some real running.

  * * * *

  Nancy had contacted him too late for lunch but too early for dinner, and by the time he’d seen her message he was already considering leaving town. It would be a dick move to vanish so soon after sex, but he had the upcoming full moon to consider. Besides, they both knew it wouldn’t lead to more. It was only sex.

  Mind-blowing sex, but nothing else.

  So, he agreed to meet her for a walk through the city’s central park, which was holding a small art fair much like the one he’d first met her at several months ago.

  He steered through the crowd and looked for the wine booth Nancy had designated as their meet-up spot. For a park, there were a lot of paved paths, and the people in attendance seemed to prefer to crowd on them rather than step on the grass.

  He had no problem walking on the grass and gladly plowed over weeds in his search. He spotted her in the distance sipping something deep red while a soft breeze played with her loose hair.

  Somehow, he hadn’t noticed her sweater this morning, but it was obnoxious, with a giant cartoon owl and the letters ‘YOLO’ followed by the explanation ‘you obviously love owls.’ It was ridiculous, yet he couldn’t help but smile. He headed towards her, but his eyes drifted to the side. A familiar scowling man was across the way and it seemed like not only had he noticed the bold sweater, but he disagreed with the sentiment, or Nancy.

  Wyatt wasn’t sure where he’d seen the guy before. The sight of him was accompanied by a strange unease, though.

  “Red or white?” Nancy asked once he made it across the grass.

  He slid a smile onto this face as he glanced at the menu banner behind her and tried to forget the stranger. “Whatever you’re having? I’m not a wine guy.”

  “There’s cider somewhere.”

  “Not a cider guy either,” he admitted.

  She looked around, standing on her tiptoes as if an inch or two would allow her to see over a crowd almost exclusively much taller than herself. “I think I saw mead, too.”

  “Mead? What sort of art fair is this?” Truth be told he hadn’t been paying attention, but now looked around and saw almost everyone had a plastic cup of something. The smell of sweet alcohols wafted around them; a pungent scent that made him wish that typical human drinks could help him take the edge off.

  “There are theme sections, and the drinks match the theme,” she said as if it made perfect sense. “This is the ‘art nouveau reborn’ space.”

  She led him into a tent and instantly became absorbed into everything on display. Art being the mystery he’d never really considered, he didn’t spend too much time analyzing the paintings. Their recent art trip hadn’t helped, but at least they wouldn’t have those types of paintings in the park. There were families here, after all.

  He stayed close to Nancy as she sipped and browsed. Some of the paintings looked nice, but he didn’t feel a connection. He didn’t know much, but she’d constantly mentioned emotions and gut reactions when they’d been at the gallery.

  Nothing he saw brought up emotions. Nancy turned and pulled him to look at a painting, but her lips became a thin line before she said a word.

  He glanced over his shoulder. The stranger was back, browsing outside of the tent while in eyesight. Pieces slid into place. “Is that Brent?”

  “Yes,” she bit off. “I guess it was too much to hope for to expect him to stay gone.”

  “I don’t know much about him but is he the art type?” he asked carefully.
/>
  ‘No. Not in the least. I suppose he could be the ‘here to sample alcohols’ type, but...” she trailed off with a severe frown.

  Wyatt looked back again but Brent was gone. Nancy appeared to have paled within seconds, and the wine rippled in the plastic cup from her trembling hand.

  “I can tell him to back off,” Wyatt offered.

  “There’s no law saying he’s not allowed to live his life. This is all me. My stupid reactions.”

  A family entered the tent, making it too crowded for comfort. Wyatt led Nancy out and surveyed the crowd. Brent appeared to be gone or in hiding for now. With a hand on the small of her back, Wyatt walked Nancy to an open space off to the side of the tents and booths.

  “I’ve seen him around you before.”

  She looked up sharply. “What?”

  “At the bar the other night, I saw him. He was watching you through the window. I didn’t know who he was, I thought he was a random creep.”

  She emptied her cup and crushed the thin plastic in her fist. “This is bull.”

  “I wouldn’t lie—”

  “No, not you. Him. Coincidences happen, but this…” Her eyes darted around, and he could sense the mixture of anger and anxiousness radiating from her. “Once, I can understand. It’s a small town. Twice, sure. Coincidence. But I know that I saw him the other day at the cafe, even for a second. That’s three times.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I. There’s no reason he would be hanging around like this. And especially here… I mean, even the cafe isn’t a place he’d ever go. He thinks the fish are tacky.” She pursed her lips and fumbled with the crushed cup in her hand.

  Wyatt took a step closer to her and placed his hands reassuringly on her shoulders. “There must be something we can do.”

  “Like what? I can’t go to the cops just because he’s in town.”

  Wyatt growled. “Then let me talk to him.”

  She pushed on his chest. “I hate—”

  “I know. But if you’ve got no other suggestions, then you should let me at least make sure he’s not thinking of doing anything crazy.”

  “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  He took a deep breath and met her eyes, pleading. “That is not what you said the other night. You said he scared you. You said you were worried he’d want you back. Now he’s stalking you? That can only go in one direction, and it’s not a good one.”

  NINE

  Nancy had shut down and two days later was still secure behind the walls she’d built to deny that something needed to be done. There was only so much Wyatt could stand to ignore. But she was right, it was her situation, not his.

  He didn’t want to trudge any deeper into something that wasn’t his business, and that meant leaving. He told himself that if nothing else, this was a sign. He was fixed. There was a problem here, and he could butt in and make it his, but he was willing to back away. In a strange way, the entire situation had led to him learning to pick his battles.

  But first, he had to say goodbye, which was his only plan for the day. The hotel room was depressing, and he couldn't wait to forget it and be on the road. Preferably within the next hour, unless Nancy stretched out his farewell into more than a quick visit. If she did, it would be harder, but it would still have to be the end.

  The easier solution would be to head straight home, but he couldn't disappear, especially knowing he wouldn't be back. And he couldn't pretend he didn't worry for Nancy. If things were in his hands, he'd likely make Brent disappear, but that's not how it would turn out. No, whatever happened now, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

  Nancy confused him. Or not her, but the way he felt around her.

  He finished shoving his things into his duffel and walked it out to his truck. His skin vibrated with anticipation of returning to the pack, but the wind blew over him and carried a sweet scent that made him think of Nancy again. In a fairy tale world, he'd consider trying to bring Nancy home with him, if he was being completely honest with himself. Unless he was mistaken, his wolf felt the same way. She was human, and that still made him balk some, but that wasn't the biggest hurdle. Hurdle number one was telling her the truth—which was certain to make her several shades of pissed off. Hurdle two was dragging her away from civilization to live in the woods. Maybe if she was the outdoorsy type, but she wasn't. She was the abstract art and champagne and museums type.

  If only she really was part owl. Maybe that could work, even.

  Wyatt dug his phone out from his pocket and scrolled through, trying to guess who would have reception. Phones weren't a thing in the pack, except for Reid and the other runners. Sucked because he'd have liked to hear his dad calling him an ass and telling him to get home, or his mom reminding him that he needs to eat more. He picked a number and dialed it, eyes scanning the treetops as the line rang.

  "Yeah?" Rosa answered.

  "You around the pack?"

  "Heading that way." A blip of static echoed through the line. "Tomorrow, nightfall, I guess."

  "Let Reid know I'm on my way back."

  "About damn time," she snipped. He could practically hear her eyes rolling. Rosa wasn't one for soul-searching. She probably had never experienced uncertainty in her life. "The Suncoast pack is about to explode again. Might need backup."

  He cursed under his breath. He'd heard her report on that pack. The most uncivilized wolves they'd frequently dealt with, yet they were fully acclimated into the human world. Living in the city. Holding jobs. Friends with humans. "Lupine shouldn't be pretending to be human day in and day out."

  "Whatever. It could be worse," she muttered. "Get your shit together and be prepared to roll once you get back."

  She hung up before he could say anything else. Rosa and Damon didn't think humans were that bad, and he often wondered if a few more years of running would change his mind too. Really, if he met a few more like Nancy, that would probably do it.

  He shot her a text asking if he could stop by. While he waited for her response, he checked his tires and topped off the oil in his truck. A reply finally came through letting him know she was home, and he headed over. His hotel was on the outskirts of town and he had plenty of time to think while he drove. He didn't want to end the trip on a bad note, but how exactly was he supposed to say “have a nice life” to a woman who'd somehow wormed her way into his heart, and “by the way, good luck with the stalker ex.”

  By the time he turned onto her street he was less apprehensive of telling her goodbye and more simply fuming that he wouldn't get to beat Brent into a bloody puddle before he left. The guy certainly deserved it.

  He parked his car and glanced at Nancy’s apartment complex. A man was standing at her door, one hand in the doorway blocking her from shutting it. Maybe I’ll get that chance after all.

  * * * *

  Brent shoved his way in, and the door slammed behind him, but Wyatt had already leaped from his truck to make sure Nancy was okay. He raced in and heard Brent yelling as he made his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  “—whoring yourself out when you should have stayed with me!” Brent growled as Wyatt caught up.

  Wyatt pushed past Brent to stand by Nancy, who though red in the face seemed determined to stand her ground. “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t seem to register his appearance, her eyes glued to Brent and his hulking form. “I told you to leave!”

  “He’s using you, and he’s not even going to stay around.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wyatt argued.

  “Like you don’t have your bags packed now that you’ve gotten what you wanted,” Brent spat at Wyatt. He implored to Nancy. “He’s not going to stick around for you. But I have, and we can move past this.”

  The hair on Wyatt’s arms stood attention. Every fiber of his being wanted to throw Brent out the door. Only Nancy stopped him. He’d promised to not try to play hero and he could keep that promise as long as Bre
nt stayed across the room.

  “Don’t make me call the cops, Brent.”

  He scoffed, looking damned cocky for no reason. “Over a spat? I haven’t touched you.”

  She held up a shaking hand, revealing her phone. “My business isn’t yours, and the cops won’t care if you think you’re here for my honor,” she said firmly, though her voice trembled. “But maybe they’d like to hear what you were up to last week. Friday night.”

  Brent flinched then shook his head. “No idea what you’re—”

  “Friday?” Wyatt asked. He glanced to Nancy, who gave him a slight nod.

  “I guessed. I didn’t tell the police because I thought I was going crazy,” she said. She glared at Brent. “But my apartment smelled like you and that damn teenage boy cologne you wear.”

  Brent took a step forward, causing Wyatt to place his hands on Nancy’s shoulders and hold firm. Anything to keep from launching himself.

  “You’re imagining things,” Brent said coolly.

  Nancy half-laughed. “Imagining that you’ve known everywhere I’d be? Because I stand here and talk on the phone and…” She glanced around. “I thought, ‘it’s like he’s watching me,’ and that’s what it was, right?”

  Brent’s eyes flickered to the bookcase and the puzzle pieces came together in Wyatt’s head.

  “That’s too far,” he growled and stepped in front of Nancy.

  “Says the guy who fucked her as a pitied one-night-stand,” Brent retorted and rushed forward to shove Wyatt’s chest.

  Wyatt pushed him back with one hand. “Leave before I do something I regret.”

  Brent responded with a powerful punch, which Wyatt easily deflected. Several messy blows followed, which grazed Wyatt's arm as he dodged and deflected each attempt. He didn't want to give himself away, but a human was no match for his lupine reflexes. Frustration was clear on Brent's brow and in the way he grunted and cursed under his breath.

  Wyatt landed with a solid jab to Brent's stomach, causing him to double over for a moment, even if Wyatt had pulled his strength at the last second.