Saving Ellie (Lycans Book 1)

by Whitney R. B.

  Turning back around, I see Ash staring at me with his brows scrunched together.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Is this your coat?”

  Looking down at my second-hand coat with a broken zipper, I shift my weight in embarrassment.

  Taking my silence as a yes, he scowls with a growl. Then walks away to the closet next to the bathroom.

  Did he really just growl at me? “What are you doing?” I call after him.

  Instead of answering, he walks back out with a black coat. He strides over to me, takes my coat, and stuffs the new one in my hands. “This is yours now.”

  “What?” I shove it back into his hands. “I can’t take this.”

  He shoves it back, but gentler than I did. “Yes, you can. I have no need for it.”

  I hold it up. “It’s too big.”

  “Just take this until I can buy you one that fits.”

  “Ash.”

  “Ellie.”

  “You’re not going to buy me a new coat.”

  “I will, and I’ll buy you five if you don’t take this one.”

  “Seriously?”

  His lips curl. “Do you want to chance it?”

  “Fine.” I send him a glare. “I’ll accept this only if you don’t buy me another one.”

  “Fine. Now put it on.”

  I sigh and stuff my arms in the sleeves and zip it up. It’s huge, but I kind of love it. I discreetly hold the collar to my nose. I hold back a moan at how good it smells—pine and musk.

  My cheeks warm when I catch the grin on his face as he turns and opens the door for me.

  Time has seemed to slow down since Ash left, making these past two weeks full of loneliness. I stare at my phone on the table as I tap my fingers against the wood. I let out a groan when I check the time and see I’ve been just sitting here for half an hour, waiting for a response. Ash and I have been texting on and off, but his responses always take a while to come back.

  When did I become so desperate for attention? I’ve been fine for years without it. I’ll be okay without Ash’s.

  So why can’t I stop thinking about him?

  Every time I pick up my pencil, I draw him, and whenever I pick up my book, I compare Ash to Wesley. It’s ridiculous. I can’t even read my favorite book.

  One thing that’s helped keep my mind off him is seeing my wolf. I’ve caught glimpses of him three different nights since Ash left. Not sure if seeing him makes me feel more or less crazy, though.

  The doorbell rings and I jump up. I watch from the archway as Emma walks down the stairs in a long black dress, her naturally curly hair straightened. She gives me a soft smile before answering the door. She’s dressed up as Morticia from The Addams Family.

  I tug on my vest and wipe my sweaty palms on my black skirt. I have fishnet tights underneath with black boots. Emma helped me to do my makeup and create messy curls to tie it all together. It’s more of a sexy pirate costume rather than a realistic one.

  My phone buzzes and I’m hit with disappointment before Emma even opens the door.

  Ash: I’m sorry, I can’t make it tonight. I hope you have fun. Happy Halloween!

  Emma ushers Tom in, who enters holding a cane, and wearing a black-and-white striped tux. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back. The only thing missing is a mustache.

  “Where’s Ash?” Emma asks, grabbing her coat, and Tom helps her put it on.

  Tom’s looks over her shoulder at me, guilt written all over his face. “He called me and told me he couldn’t make it. He sends his regards.”

  I nod. “I just got a text from him.”

  “Oh.” Emma looks at me. “Well, we’ll just have fun without him.”

  “I don’t know if—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.” Emma points at me as Tom grabs my coat. “You look awesome and should show off.”

  I bite my lip.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  I laugh halfheartedly. “Alright. Let’s go,” I say as I take my coat from Tom and follow them out the door.

  The neighbor’s party was more stressful than I thought it would be. I thought, since I was used to having Emma and Tom as company, I’d be fine with a group of strangers. Yeah, definitely not. My anxiety was through the roof the entire time as I tried to avoid bumping into anyone. The party wasn’t like what you see in the movies, everyone was older than me and just enjoying each other's company, but people were still drinking. As the night drew on, bottles were emptied, and boundary lines were blurred. Thankfully, Tom stayed sober and Emma only drank two cups, which made her a little tipsy but not drunk.

  “Night, Ellie. I hope your head stops hurting.”

  “Thanks, Tom. I think I just need sleep.” I wave goodbye to them as they drive off to Tom’s for the night.

  I trudge up the porch stairs. It’s a full moon tonight, illuminating the woods around Emma’s house. The light bounces off the snow from recent storms, but the trees are merely immobile shadows. My heart skips a beat as something moves between them. I squint and can just barely make out a large animal hovering beside a tree, almost as if a random boulder was placed there.

  Could it be?

  It moves again. Slick and sleek. Dangerous, yet elegant.

  It’s my wolf. I know it is. Without thinking, I’m down the steps and across Emma’s yard. Snow seeps into my shoes, and the air continues to nip at my exposed skin, but I don’t care. I halt at the edge of the forest.

  This is crazy. What the heck am I doing?

  I study the trees in front of me, wind whipping my hair to the side.

  This isn’t a good idea.

  But then I see him.

  My wolf.

  His glacier-blue eyes pierce through the darkness, and I take a step forward. Then another—until I’m practically running.

  I collapse against the wolf, melting into him as I wrap my arms around him. My fingers dig into his soft ebony fur as I breathe in deeply. His scent is refreshing, mixing in with the wind. He smells just like I remembered: the woods, pines, and fresh snow, but better.

  “I missed you,” I whisper. This animal was the first one to bring me peace and calmness at night. I’ve been craving it. All my emotions tumble out. Just when I thought life was looking up, Ash disappeared. The one connection I felt could go somewhere. He must’ve been able to sense I was too much trouble. Too closed-off. I made him run for the hills. It became obvious tonight with him not showing up and his lack of communication. What was I even thinking?

  Tears spill as I hold the wolf tighter. He is exactly what I need right now. His calm, playful personality always makes me forget my troubles.

  I indulge in the softness of his fur as I run my hands through it, trying to memorize it in every way.

  “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  He hunches down and nuzzles my neck.

  Pulling back, I look into the wolf's eyes. I’m hit with a sense of familiarity. I blink and it’s gone.

  I sit back on my leg and really look at him. He sits and stares back with a tilt of his head that’s super cute. Reminding me of what puppies do when they’re confused. He doesn’t act like a normal wolf—not that I’ve had much experience with wolves prior to him. But there’s just something different about him.

  I run my hand down his neck. “It’s good to see you.”

  He stands and nudges me up. He tilts his head, as if he’s asking me to follow him.

  I look back through the trees at Emma’s house. Is it smart to follow a wolf through the woods? Probably not, but oddly, I trust him.

  As we walk, the only sounds are the soft rustle of leaves as the chilly breeze brushes through them, the crickets, the snaps of twigs, and the crunch of snow under my feet.

  We walk until we come up on a small opening in the trees, full of forget-me-nots and patches of snow. How is that possible? Don’t flowers bloom in the spring?

  As we wander through them, I’m hit with their fragra
nce. I take a deep breath through my nose and smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever smelled forget-me-nots before.”

  The wolf nudges my hand, regaining my attention, before walking ahead of me. He stops where the flowers are sparse and only grass remains. He lays down and meets my gaze, beckoning me to join him with his eyes. I sit next to him in a dry spot, but shiver at the cold ground beneath me. Noticing, he shifts closer, nudging me to lay down then snuggling with me. He covers my exposed legs with his tail.

  I take comfort in the warmth of his body against mine. As I cuddle against him, I look up at the sky. My breath hitches. Pale green and pink stripes cover the night sky, stars shining through them. It’s almost as if it’s alive, the foggy colors slowly moving above us in waves. Something so beautiful, but simple. The aurora borealis.

  Sniffing with a quivering lip, I’m hit with a wave of emotion. This touches me deeper than I expected it could. It’s so magical. Makes me feel like anything is possible.

  I rub my eyes. I’ve cried more times in the past two months than I have in years. I close my eyes to try to gain composure. Why did the wolf bring me here? Did he know I needed to see this?

  He nuzzles my hair. I smile and bury my head into his fur. I think I’ll just stay like this for a while.

  Birds tweeting is the first thing I hear, followed by the soft breathing of my wolf. My brows scrunch together, my eyes still closed. His breathing seems different. Also instead of fur, I feel warm, smooth skin.

  My eyes pop open, and I’m met with a sleeping man beside me. His features shadowed from the rising sun.

  I jolt up, jostling the arm that was around me, and scurry away.

  The man is naked except for black boxer briefs. I blink. Where’s my wolf? I quickly look around, but he’s nowhere to be found. I focus back on the man and it clicks. This isn’t just any man. The smooth light-brown skin, the chiseled jaw with scruff and ebony hair.

  Ash.

  I gasp and quickly cover my mouth as he stirs. His hand searching the area where I had been sleeping beside him. His brows furrow, then his whole body stiffens.

  He opens his eyes, and they instantly connect with mine, panic swirling in his gaze. “I can explain,” he says, his voice thick from sleep. I remain frozen as he sits up. He grimaces, and I realize he’s injured. The side he was sleeping on is covered in an ugly purplish-blue bruise.

  He doesn’t move closer once he’s in a sitting position, instead he runs a hand down his face and mutters a few swear words. “This was not how I wanted you to find out.”

  My eyes strain as I stare at him, my hands shaking over my mouth.

  He peeks at me through his fingers and lets out a pent-up breath as he removes his hand. Looking resigned, he says, “I know you have questions. You can ask me.”

  It takes me a moment to drop my hands, but even then, my mouth can’t seem to form words. I hold myself as I try to process what has happened. And Ash doesn’t rush me.

  Finally, I come up with a coherent thought. “How?”

  He nods slowly. “How?”

  I wave my hand, gesturing to him and his practically naked body.

  “How did I get here? Or how did I shift from a wolf to a man?”

  I shake my head. He can’t possibly mean that he and the wolf are one and the same.

  Ash lounges back on his hands, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. The bruising along his side is even more noticeable in this position. He has to have at least one broken rib. What happened to him?

  When I don’t say anything else, he says, “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you. To tell you who I really am. That I am both the wolf and the man. That you can let your guard down with me. But I couldn’t just spit out that I’m a wolf. How crazy would that sound?”

  My hands keep a tight grip on my coat as a chilled breeze seeps through.

  His eyes travel to me once more. “You look beautiful, by the way. I really like the sexy pirate look.”

  I scowl, narrowing my eyes at him. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject.”

  The corners of his lips twitch. “It was worth a shot.” He sighs, leaning forward while holding his side. “Well, do you believe me?”

  “That you’re a wolf?”

  He nods, resting his arms on his knees. “Not just any wolf though, but the wolf you’ve been spending time with.”

  That can’t be possible. “How?” I ask again.

  His brows scrunch together. “I’ve already—”

  “How is this possible?”

  “That’s kind of a long story.”

  I give him a look, and he lets out a breath. “I’ll give you the short version for now. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

  I bark out a humorless laugh. “Like this isn’t already overwhelming?”

  He closes his eyes. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He takes a deep breath, but cringes and touches his side.

  “How did you get that?” I ask.

  His glacier-blue eyes connect with mine, and my heart speeds up. I frown at my reaction and glare at him.

  “Just someone in the pack.”

  “Pack?”

  He grunts in frustration, running a hand down his face again. “I’ve never had to explain this to anyone before. I’m not sure how to do this right.” He sighs. “Let me backtrack to your first question, and then I can explain everything else.” I nod, my palms sweating. He can’t really be a wolf, right? That just doesn’t make sense. My gaze trails the smooth expansive of skin he’s showing. He’s definitely a man. How can he also be a wolf?

  He straightens slightly. “I’m a lycan, better known as a wolf-shifter, werewolf, whatever.”

  My brain short circuits as I shake my head. Nope, can’t process this. It’s just not possible. “And how is that possible?”

  “I was born this way. There’s magic that runs through my body that allows me to shift.”

  “And are there more of you? More lycans?”

  “Yes, there’s a lot of us throughout the world. My parents were both lycans, and I was born one.”

  My mind is running a million miles a minute trying to piece this together. “Have lycans always existed?”

  “No, but I don’t think you’re ready to hear how my kind came to be.”

  I fold my arms, fighting the urge to stand and stomp my foot. “I beg to differ.”

  “Have you accepted that I’m a wolf in the past five minutes?” My shoulders slump, and he continues, “I thought so.”

  I glare at him.

  “Sorry,” he says, then curses. “I’m doing a terrible job at explaining this. Let’s just...let’s just take this one step at a time.”

  “Fine. So you were born a wolf-shifter, a lycan. Have you always been able to shift into a wolf?”

  “Yes, well, since puberty.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Now?”

  “No, tomorrow,” I deadpan.

  With a sigh, he eases onto his hands and knees.

  My heart seems to stop beating as I hold my breath, watching his body transform. His shift is quick as his body enlarges and morphs. His face changes before my eyes and fur erupts...everywhere.

  He...he changed.

  Into a wolf.

  My wolf.

  I jump up. “This can’t be possible.” I pace and eye him. His eyes glow in his wolf form, but they’re still the same glacier blue. His fur is the same ebony as his hair. How is this even real? How did I not make the connection?

  Because you didn’t think werewolves existed before this, Ellie.

  I freeze in place as he walks toward me. He stops in front of me and sits. I reach out but hesitate. Meeting his eyes in question, he nods then lowers his head. My heart skips a beat as I brush my fingers against the fur—his fur—and find it’s just as soft as last night. Would Ash’s hair feel this soft as well?

  He huffs before his body shifts back into a man. Into Ash. Still naked except f
or his black boxers.

  My brows scrunch together. “How?”

  His arms flex as he pushes off the ground to stand. He’s so close it’s hard not to ogle his toned pecs and abs. Even his thighs and calves are attractive.

  I bite my lip, turning my gaze away. Now is not the time.

  “How?” His voice is just a breath away, sending a shiver down my spine.

  I vaguely gesture to his underwear, keeping my eyes averted.

  “Ah. All my boxers are made with magic-infused fibers.”

  Magic-infused fibers? “Why not clothes as well?” I glance at him.

  “There’s only a handful of witches that can make them. And it’s time consuming to create them so they only offer underwear and some jewelry at a higher cost.”

  So witches also exist? I mentally shake my head. Right now is not the best time to contemplate other supernatural beings’ existence. I can’t even wrap my mind around him being my wolf—no, not mine, a wolf. I meet his eyes. “So, you’re a werewolf.”

  He nods. “A lycan.”

  “Right.” I take a step back but realize that just gives me a better view. I clear my throat. “How did this happen?” He tilts his head and I clear my throat. “You—shifting.” I fidget with my zipper on the coat he gave me. “You’ve never done this around me before. And you seemed surprised that you did.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t mean to shift this time. But I don’t regret it happening. I’m glad you know now.” He takes a step closer, but I take another step backward. Hurt flashes in his eyes, and I try not to feel guilty.

  “If you didn’t mean for this to happen, how did it?” I ask.

  He blinks, then straightens, clenching and unclenching his hands. “Shifts can be triggered by emotions. When emotions are high, the shift is close to the surface just waiting to be tapped into, sometimes it happens without even tapping into it, which is called a forced shift.”

  “You mean, shifting into your wolf.”

  “Yes.”

  “But this was the opposite.”

  He nods. “And like the opposite of heightened emotions, when we’re calm or relaxed, our bodies will shift back into our natural form, retract if you will. When we’re awake, it’s easy to control, but that’s not the case when we’re asleep.”