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CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Sascha

“Alexander.”

The sound of his father’s voice has Sascha cringing against his bedroom door, regretting that he didn’t listen for anyone in the hallway before exiting. “Hey, Dad,” says Sascha, turning to regard Samuel Madison’s typical calm demeanor. “What’s up?”

“You were out all night, Alexander. The others had planned a bonfire.”

There is no bonfire his cousins could plan in this life or the next that could have persuaded Sascha to abandon Avery during his full moon shift.

Sascha stayed a cougar all night, crouched on the opposite bank, watching through the low cave opening while Avery’s were-ursine form paced and grumbled.

That was all it did. The creature wasn’t rabid, didn’t fight to escape or attack any animals that walked past the entrance.

Every cautionary tale about werecreatures during their forced full moon transformations fell completely flat before Avery’s large, fur-covered feet.

“I was visiting a friend out of town,” Sascha explains, purposefully vague. The less information he gives his father to latch on to, the easier the conversation will go.

“I’d prefer if you’d keep your schedule open for gatherings with the pack,” Samuel says, voice mild enough to communicate his disapproval without bashing Sascha over the head with it. “You become distant at times.”

“Sometimes I need more space than others.” Sascha does his best to keep any defensiveness out of his tone, adding, “Even if I take some time to myself, pack is the most important part of my life.” It’s what his dad would want to hear, while his mother would have pushed him to be honest about the reason for his distance.

Not that she’d approve of this instance.

Samuel seems pacified by the reassurance, as Sascha thought he’d be. He opens his mouth to respond, but Sascha’s phone buzzes in his pocket, blasting out the first few nonsensical lines of Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance.’ Rah, rah, rah-ah-ah ?—

Sascha slides his phone out enough to glance at the number. Seeing one he doesn’t recognize has him refusing the call, cutting Gaga off in the middle of ‘ want your bad romance .’

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Sascha mumbles a quick, “Sorry.”

“Your cousins were asking after you,” Samuel says, giving Sascha another discerning look. “I suggested we go on a run tonight.”

It’s all Sascha can do not to groan and knock his head against the bedroom door.

Of all the things he wants to do tonight, shifting and running around with Garrett and Jakob is not one of them.

He had actually been on his way to the kitchen to get something to eat for lunch since he fell asleep as soon as he got home after dropping Avery off.

Sprawling in his bed alone, Sascha had felt cold.

Not just from the blasting air conditioning, but knowing Avery was stuck laboring after hours of restless pacing inside the cave sent an unpleasant chill down Sascha’s spine.

All he could think of was how Avery should have been next to him, bare skin plastered close enough to make them both sweat.

They haven’t slept together in a bed since the night they met.

Haven’t fucked properly, either, on a bed or otherwise.

It’d be so much easier if Sascha could just introduce Avery to his dad, to his obnoxious cousins and the rest of the pack, then make all the pleasantries needed before dragging Avery to his too-empty bed to ravish him. If-fucking-only.

Samuel subtly suggesting Sascha prove the whole ‘ pack is the most important part of my life ’ thing is part of what makes him a great pack leader.

Testing boundaries without setting off tempers, answering unspoken questions with careful observation.

Sascha would go about things differently if he led a pack, but he thinks his way would be good, too.

“I’m tired,” Sascha lies. He’s actually wide awake, planning on texting Avery to see how he’s holding up after his kitchen run. “But I’ll see how I feel later tonight, okay?”

A frown creeps over Samuel’s mouth. “How has your health been this past week, Alexander? I feel as if you don’t talk to me anymore.”

Sascha doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“It’s been okay. No episodes recently. I’ve been taking it easy.

” This one is only a half-lie. He’d have been going to Forgotten Lake on his own even if Avery wasn’t there to squirm in his arms, seek comfort, and cling to him in the water.

The extra energy he’s invested in keeping Avery safe barely feels like an expenditure—at least, not one that isn’t worthwhile.

Samuel continues to frown. Sascha scrambles for more bland, appeasing statements, but none come to mind.

“I was on my way to the kitchen,” Sascha says finally.

If nothing else, his dad is always on his ass about eating healthy and staying in shape.

“I heard the cooks made a wonderful, uh, salad last night.” He’d heard no such thing, but despite cats being obligate carnivores, Samuel insists on including vegetables in everyone’s diets.

We are not animals , his father always said. Our bodies have nuanced needs .

From his expression, Samuel doesn’t believe Sascha’s interest in salad—correctly so, because Sascha has none. He doesn’t call Sascha on it, though, simply nods and steps out of the way. “Enjoy your lunch. I will have your cousins find you later for the run tonight.”

Sascha hurries past, desperate to put his back to his father so he can’t see the deep, frustrated scowl that’s overtaken Sascha’s face. He feels Samuel’s stare all the way down the hall, until he turns toward the kitchen, unable to scratch the sensation of being watched from his nape.

In the kitchen, Sascha asks for a bag, which he stuffs with food not just for himself but for Avery as well.

Avery doesn’t get quality food on the farm, and he doesn’t eat as much as he should because of it.

Last time Sascha provided food for him, it was fast food and snacks, so this time, he makes up for it, even grabbing the salad in case Samuel asks the cooks about it later. Sascha wouldn’t put it past him.

“Hungry today?” asks Aunt Marty, who is the head cook.

Sascha forces a smile, trying for charming. It feels more like a wince. “Dad wants me to go on a run with Jakob and Garrett tonight, so I’m fueling up. Just in case, you know.”

In case he faints.

In case he can’t handle a simple night of shifting and enjoying the woods.

In case the rift between him and his pack grows ever deeper, until the chasm is dark and insurmountable.

Marty is a distant cousin from the Madison maternal line, and has Sascha’s mother’s shrewd features.

She was Denise’s best friend, so Sascha has always called her his aunt.

Just as perceptive as his father, Marty tracks pack members’ habits and nutritional needs, with especial focus on Sascha.

The responsibility of keeping the pack healthy and fueled up suits her.

Everyone in the Madison pack, it seems, has a role that emphasizes their skillset—makes them an asset rather than a burden.

Everyone except Sascha.

After thanking Marty, Sascha takes off, intent on finding a quiet place to eat before texting Avery about meeting up later.

When he gets to a room with no one in it, however, the food never makes it out of the bag.

He glances at his phone to check the time and is surprised by the notification for a voicemail.

The unfamiliar number he’d assumed to be a spam caller must have left a message.

Sascha almost ignores it, wanting to prioritize eating and checking on Avery, but a vague sense of unease has him clicking the visual inbox rather than dismissing the notif.

When Sascha sees the transcript, all the breath leaves his lungs.

Sascha punches the button to play the voicemail, heart pounding so hard he can hear the blood pulsing between his ears, nearly drowning out Avery’s broken voice.

Without specifics, a host of horrible possibilities arises in Sascha’s mind like a wave, threatening to crush him.

He listens to the voicemail a second time so he can write down the location, then bolts out of the room, only to return for the forgotten bag of food.

In his car before he knows it, Sascha guns it down the street leading farther into the pack compound, seeking out the small clinic where he’s spent more time than he’d like over the years.

Sascha nearly forgets to turn off the vehicle before running inside, and though he knows panic is making him sloppy and irrational, he can’t stop.

The waiting room is empty, so Sascha stomps into the back, pounding hard on the healer’s door. “Petra? Petra, please, it’s Sascha. I need help. Like, right now.”

Upstairs, he hears Petra’s light footsteps on the old building’s creaking floors.

She descends the stairs at a regal pace, and it’s all Sascha can do not to holler for her to speed the fuck up.

Finally, Petra opens the door, peeking out.

Sascha seizes her by the shoulders and pulls her into the hall, then into a tight embrace.

“Petra,” he says when he’s holding her at a distance again, “I need you to come with me.”

Petra scans him with knowing brown eyes, searching for any sign of injury or madness.

“Someone I know is hurt badly,” Sascha explains. “He needs my help.”

“Ah,” she intones, a soft, thoughtful note. “Who is this person?”

A knot catches in Sascha’s throat. “One of my friends,” he chokes.

Sascha is terrified of revealing his relationship with Avery to a member of his pack, but without knowing the extent of Avery’s injuries or how quickly his magic can heal them, he doesn’t have a choice.

“Please, Petra. He’s so important to me. ”

“That’s vague,” Petra says, cutting cleanly through his bullshit.

“I know. I just need you to trust me. I’m begging.”