Bitten & Beholden (Children of Fenrir Book 2)

by Heather McCorkle

  Opposite the sink stood the glass doors to a huge shower. Along the wall behind the door I found several towels rolled up and placed artfully upon what looked like a brushed stainless steel shelf. Setting my clothes down on the counter, I grabbed a bar of soap that was either of the homemade variety or from an expensive store that liked to make it look that way. Next to the soap sat two glass containers with hand pumps. One was labeled shampoo, the other conditioner. Clearly, Ty wasn’t into store-bought toiletries. Lucky thing my hair was relatively easy to manage, straight as an arrow no matter what I did, but easy nonetheless. An experimental sniff of the containers brought only subtle scents and made me realize how much I smelled like sweat.

  And he had thought that was sexy. Even that was charming, dammit.

  “Ugh.”

  I peeled off my clothes and dropped them on the floor. One brush against my arm and I tried to tell myself that my nipples stood at attention because of the cool air, not the memory of Ty half naked. Heat rushed down my stomach toward my groin as if to mock me. Time to wash that sight from my mind. Tucking the toiletries under my arm, I reached for the shower doors. They opened up to a space that looked better designed for an orgy than cleaning oneself. But then, that could be my present state of mind. The thing was ten by ten at least, more of a room than a shower, really, with four showerheads on two different walls. A bench of stone built as though it were part of the floor and walls stood at a height perfect for all kinds of interesting uses.

  I shook my head and set the armload of toiletries on a shelf built into the wall. After several tries that ended in me soaked in a mixture of warm and cold water from three different sides, I finally figured out how to turn only one showerhead on. Warm water poured over me from a showerhead designed to feel like rainfall, and damn if it wasn’t amazing. Long breaths eased from me as my muscles relaxed and my energy finally came back under control. Eyes opening, I looked down as my hand skimmed down my stomach and over my hip. Just above my pubic hairline, my fingers stopped to caress my birthmark. It was a splotchy pink mark that resembled a crudely drawn S. The similarity to the Sowilo rune was not lost on me.

  Dad had always told me the birthmark meant I was special. How or why, he hadn’t said.

  I wanted to deny that I had been drawn to that rune, that maybe I had seen it from a distance and recognized it as similar to my mark. The shadows had cloaked it until I was nearly upon it, though. What drew me to it wasn’t the similarity, but something much deeper. Part of me wanted to tell Ty, to ask him about it, but I wasn’t about to. Not until I understood more. And more importantly, not until I knew I could trust him, at least a little. Like he said, something more was going on here, something more to do with me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sonya

  Three solid days of nothing but running and meditation and I’d had enough of taking things slow with my training. As Ty had stated days ago, I was beyond ready to “get down to the real thing.” The full moon was getting closer. Each day that passed I could feel it tugging at me more and more. Nature as well pulled at me like never before, making me want something I didn’t understand. This new desire frightened me almost as much as the idea of shifting into something I wasn’t sure I could control and possibly going mad in the process. The running was beginning to stir a need in me to hunt, to kill. That part freaked me out almost as much as the idea of shifting.

  Not to mention my attraction to Ty pulling at me more each day. I was actually handling the moon better than the man. Flaws weren’t exactly something he had in spades, or at all, that I could tell. Everything about him made me want to drop my defenses—and my undies. But dropping my defenses was what had landed me in this mess and ruined my plans for a future as a doctor. Still, if I was going to die… No, I couldn’t think that way. I had to make it.

  Standing on the back deck looking out over the lake not far from the back of the house, a restlessness came over me that had me literally jumping in my skin like an espresso junkie. Now that I thought about it, espresso sounded really good. Maybe that’s what I needed, to be around people for a bit. Having gone through over a week of the verða now, I wanted to see if being around people felt different. I needed to know I wouldn’t hunger for their flesh. True, I hadn’t so far, but what if it was something that developed further into the transformation? I wanted to trust that Ty wouldn’t lie to me about something like that, but I hadn’t known him long enough.

  So soft they barely made a sound, Ty’s footsteps brushed against the deck in a pattern that was becoming quite familiar. It was like my thoughts had conjured him out of thin air.

  “This is the view I long for when I’m in Hemlock Hollow.”

  For a split second I almost thought he was talking about me. But of course he couldn’t be. I turned to see him looking out over the lake with a wistful expression softening his freshly shaven face.

  “You don’t live here all the time?”

  Sighing heavily, he shook his head. “I wish I could, but duty calls me back there often during the summer, and sometimes on the weekends.”

  “Duty?”

  He rested his elbows on the steel deck rail, gaze never leaving the still blue water. “Varúlfur politics that require my input.”

  I touched his arm and gave him a hard look through narrowed eyes. The almost magnetic feel of his skin beneath my palm stirred things in me I didn’t want stirred. His long lashes fluttered and he leaned into me, telling me he felt it too. “I need to hear more about the packs, but can we please go into town? I’m dying for a good espresso, and I’m restless,” I forced myself to say.

  He gave a slight shrug that failed to look as casual as he tried to make it, then moved away from the railing, but not so far that it would take my hand from his arm. Until then I hadn’t realized I’d left it there. I pulled it back a little too quickly. Thankfully, he pretended not to notice. The disappointment and shame in his eyes ruined the attempt.

  “Yeah, I need to pick up some things from the store. That’s a good idea.”

  Was that a touch of humor in his voice? I tried not to grind my teeth as I walked alongside him back to the house. The aggravation stirring within didn’t cause my fangs to extend, or even make my jaws ache with the need. Much as I hated to admit it, the meditation was helping.

  While in the bathroom putting my hair up, I heard an engine start. After grabbing my wallet, keys, and tucking my mace into my pocket, I made my way to the front deck. At the bottom of the stairs, Ty waited next to a forest green Chevy Colorado. The vehicle shone in the sun as if recently washed and waxed, yet the scars of a few scratches and small dents proved it was also well used. For a man of his stature I had expected a Hummer, or at least a full-size truck.

  “What, no big rig?” I asked as I descended the stairs.

  Blue eyes sparkling, he grinned. “I have no need to compensate.”

  Damn if those words didn’t burn a trail straight to my core and make me wonder exactly what lay behind the fly of those nicely fitted jeans of his. Feigning exasperation, I rolled my eyes and climbed in when he opened the passenger door for me. I became so caught up in ogling the pristine interior with its spaceship-looking console jammed full of electronics that I jumped when he opened his door. This truck was pretty much the polar opposite of my classic Jeep, so much so that it might as well have been a Maserati. I couldn’t have felt more out of place as it was. Fumbling with the threadbare hem of my shorts, I stared at my filthy hiking shoes and realized I was going to have to rely on him a bit more than I wanted to.

  “When we get back, do you mind if I use your washer and dryer? I’d be happy to do the cooking in exchange.”

  The truck purred to life and eased out onto the gravel drive so smoothly it had me aching with envy. It wasn’t that I wanted a new vehicle. I didn’t. I liked my old classic. But I’d never had anything new. The dash felt like real leather. The smell wasn’t quite right, but it was close enough.

  “Of course, but you do not
have to work for it. You are my guest. Offering basic amenities is the very least I can do.”

  My hand jerked back at the sound of his voice. “Is that what I am, a guest?”

  “Of course.”

  “So I can leave at any time?”

  For a moment, his hand froze over the gear shifter, moving only when the engine revved so high it sounded like a growl. “You can, but I would not advise it. The verða is something you need to be guided through. And I hope you would not want to.” The last part was low and gentle, as if he knew he shouldn’t say it, but couldn’t help himself.

  I chose to ignore the last part, because if I didn’t, I’d swoon. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s Raul’s pack, and that other one.”

  One long moment stretched into another until I feared he wouldn’t answer. The truck glided down the road so quietly it was hard to tell we were on gravel. Trees zipped by, giving the occasional view of a cloudy sky.

  “Yes,” he finally said.

  The next question had to be forced past my constricting throat. “Am I part of his pack now?”

  Ty’s eyes never left the road, but by the way he tensed, I could tell the question bothered him. “Not unless you want to be.”

  Somehow I knew that if I said I didn’t, he’d relax, but something in me wanted to keep that information close to my chest for now. If he relaxed too much around me, then I’d relax around him, and then things would progress to a place I couldn’t afford for them to go and didn’t want them to. Or so I told myself. Lying to oneself is no easy thing. When I didn’t respond after a moment, he went on. “I did a bit of online research, cross referenced it with varúlfur records, and found that your dad descends from a Swedish pack.”

  “That can’t mean my dad was a werewolf. We were close. I would have known.” It wasn’t just denial. He would have told me something like that.

  “No, but I think he knew about the Swedish pack.”

  He handed me his phone. On it was a picture of a man with a roaring wolf formed of knotwork covering his back. Above the wolf was a phrase in Norse runes: Seeker Wolves. I knew it from memory. At first I thought it was a picture of my dad’s back, but the man’s build was wrong. The tattoo, though, was dead on.

  “That’s my dad’s tattoo,” I whispered.

  “I know. I also found his admission photos. Sonya”—he looked at me from across the truck—“that’s the crest of the Swedish pack your dad’s family descended from. That is where you get your varúlfur blood.”

  The world swam. My stomach heaved. “I thought all the stories of werewolves and Vikings were only that, stories. But he knew. He loved those stories. He would have wanted to be a werewolf. Why wouldn’t he have gone to the pack and asked to be bitten in? It makes no sense,” I protested, unable to wrap my mind around it.

  Ty gave me a long, meaningful look. “Because he loved you. The odds of surviving to become varúlfur are not good, remember? I do not think he wanted to leave you alone, or take the chance of you wanting to follow in his steps and try to become one too.”

  Like I could forget. “He would have asked before I was born,” I argued, unable to accept it.

  “I do not think he knew until after you were born. I spoke with the alpha of the Seeker Wolves pack. He said a seer of theirs predicated your birth, and that they reached out to your father when you were born, offering your family the chance to join the pack if they would go to Sweden. When he declined, they offered him their mark—their tattoo—so all would know his family was protected by them.”

  I dropped my head into my hands. “My mother wouldn’t have wanted us to live that life, to take those risks.”

  That would have meant my dad denied himself the one thing in life he would have wanted more than anything. Well, almost anything it turned out. Tears stung my eyes and I couldn’t blink the damn things away.

  “There is more,” Ty warned.

  “I want to know. Tell me everything,” I demanded without hesitation.

  “He went to prison for murder, right?”

  I nodded.

  “The man he killed was not a drug dealer like they said. He was a member of a tribe of skinwalkers who tried to kidnap you. The Swedish pack found out and threatened the tribe, they kept you and your mom safe.”

  The world swayed. Gripping the dash in front of me didn’t help. Things were starting to click into place that I didn’t want to believe. I grasped onto the one thing I did want to believe. “My dad wasn’t a murderer.”

  Ty’s hand came to rest on my leg. “No he was not. A no-touch creed was issued on your family after that. It is all in the varúlfur records.”

  Half the reason I had wanted to become a doctor was to balance the scales—in my mind at least—for what my dad had done. “This is insane.” I might have yelled; I couldn’t tell.

  All this time I had thought my dad had been involved in drugs. Now…

  But Ty wasn’t done blowing my mind. “It seems the tribe believed your mother had skinwalker blood in her. That might be why they targeted you. Being half varúlfur and part skinwalker, you could have ended up going either way based on who found you first.”

  My mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that skinwalkers were real too. But they couldn’t be in my mother’s blood. That would mean she wasn’t full Cherokee like she had always told me. Skinwalkers were a Navajo legend. But then she had told me stories of them. The stories said they could wear the skin of just about any animal big enough to turn into and use it to transform. Why would she tell me those stories if she wasn’t part Navajo?

  The guilt of knowing it had been her own people—well, sort of—that had tried to kidnap me, resulting in her husband going to prison, might have explained her descent into a haze of drugs after my dad’s death in prison. I’d never blamed her for her fall. She lost the love of her life. But I’d also lost my dad, and she always seemed to overlook that part. If this was true, it meant she had reason to blame me for everything. And I hadn’t spoken to her in years because I blamed her. What kind of person did that make me?

  “You think they wanted me so they could make sure I turned into a skinwalker instead?”

  “That I do not know. The alphas of the Swedish pack would not tell me, but they want you to get in contact with them. Their wolves lost track of you when you moved to Idaho and they have been worried about you,” Ty said.

  Taking slow, measured breaths, I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. I took a while to process it and fought back tears. Once I got the lump in my throat down, I told him, “Not until after the verða. I want to be at full strength before I have to deal with anyone else who expects something of me. You didn’t tell him where I was, did you?” I wanted to know, I needed to know, everything that alpha had to say, but right now I needed to focus on getting myself through this.

  He squeezed my leg. “Of course not.”

  “Good. When I left Washington, I made sure I’d be hard to track so my mom couldn’t find me. I had just put her into a rehab facility, again. I was hoping that my leaving might actually be enough to make her think she’d really hit rock bottom this time. In psychology, I learned they have to believe that or else they’ll just keep falling off the wagon. At the time it had seemed like the only option,” I said, the last bit dropping to a whisper.

  Without a word, Ty grabbed my hand and held it. His power flowed over me, cradling me. I relaxed into it for a mile or so before pulling my hand away. I owed my mom. Making it through this wasn’t just about me or the people I could help as a doctor anymore. It was about family.

  “You still haven’t told me about the Hemlock Hollow packs.” They were an immediate threat that knew right where I was. Forewarned was forearmed.

  His jaw tensed, making me wonder if he was struggling to keep his fangs retracted. An interesting reaction to a simple statement.

  “Don’t keep me in the dark, Ty. I don’t like it,” I warned.

  A long breath blew from him, an
d he sagged a bit. “That is not my intention.” He drew in an equally long breath before going on. “There are three packs in Hemlock Hollow: Reinhard, Draupnir, and Arnoddr. While they live in a relative sort of peace for the most part, they each have their own…politics, and there are politics between the three of them.”

  The tension tightening his features told me varúlfur politics weren’t the same as normal world politics.

  “Is that why you spend so much time in Missoula?”

  “Partly.”

  His following silence told me the conversation would end there if I didn’t push. So I pushed. “Did you ever belong to one of the packs?”

  “Once, yes,” he practically growled in a low voice.

  Tension filled the cab of the truck like fog, so thick I could taste its acidity on the back of my tongue. His hand withdrew from my leg. The absence of his heat made my heart sink. No, not my heart, exactly, more like the rush that waited in my chest. It wasn’t just attraction. This rush had hovered within ever since I woke up on the bathroom floor. I think it was my power. What did it mean that he made not only my body thrill, but my varúlfur power as well?

  The pain that pinched his brows together made me want to stop there. But I couldn’t. If I made it through the verða, I would need to know things. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit a touchy subject. Which one is Raul’s pack? What are they like?” I asked.

  I knew throwing too many questions together tended to make him clam up, but we were starting to come across more houses than trees, which meant we were nearly to town. Time was running short, and once he stopped talking about this subject, it would be hard to get him going again.

  “His is the Reinhard pack, and they are…driven.”