Page 9

9

KAT

T he creek is calling my name so loudly I couldn’t have ignored it even if I wanted to.

And soft grass beats an uncomfortable hardwood floor, which has me limping into Aren’s bathroom to shift into my human form, my bag between my teeth, to get ready for the day.

Aren barely stirs. I change into my jeans and T-shirt, braiding my damp hair as I make my way outside, bypassing the laughter and delicious food smells coming from the dining room.

I’ve been out here for nearly thirty minutes when Aren strides from the house, frowning until he sees me.

His concern melts away, and he walks toward me. He’s wearing sweatpants and a black wrinkled T-shirt with no shoes.

“You looked worried,” I say, turning away from him to stare at a tiny bird soaring into the sky.

Even in a wrinkled T-shirt, unkempt hair, and half-asleep, the man still looks hotter than he has a right to.

“Thought you might have run off.” He takes a seat close beside me.

I glare at him.

He ignores me.

I shuffle a little to the right.

He follows.

Sniffing, I refocus on my view. “I’ll help you get rid of your guest, and you play bait. That was the deal, right?”

“What happened?”

“I don’t understand,” I say, playing ignorant.

During the hours-long drive to Burning Wood, guilt plagued me about not doing enough to save Cris. It was guilt that had made me swallow my pride, pack up a few outfits, and make the drive up here.

Too many people have died already. If I have to put up with the Wolf King for a couple of days to track down a killer, then so be it. I’m still here because it’s too important to walk away.

“You seemed pretty set on doing things on your own. I’m guessing something happened.”

It’s too embarrassing to admit that I failed. He’s a hunter who tracked me down so easily, it’s not even funny.

“I just want this over.” It’s only a partial lie. I do want this to be over. But that’s not what drove me up here. My failure did.

He doesn’t speak for so long I wonder if he knows I’m lying.

“You’re missing breakfast,” he eventually says.

“I’m not hungry. Aren’t you?”

“It can wait. This is better.”

His stomach growls.

I look at him.

He smiles down at me. “That you?”

Shaking my head, I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile and refocus on the creek.

We’re sitting several minutes later when a small gray wolf sprints past.

Moving almost too fast to track, Aren grips the wolf by the scruff of its neck and hauls it back. He holds a wriggling, excited, and adorable wolf pup in his arms.

Leo.

“Your mother is going to kill you,” he warns. “Aren’t you supposed to be grounded?”

Yipping with excitement, Leo licks the end of Aren’s nose and I hide my smile when Aren sighs.

The front door swings open, and Dania rushes out. “Have you seen…”

She releases a sigh of relief when she spots Leo.

“Go home,” Aren tells Leo slowly but firmly, and sets the wolf down.

When Leo immediately darts toward the creek, Aren’s growl is nothing less than an order to come back.

Changing direction, Leo jumps into my lap, giving me a wolfy grin.

Laughing, I turn my face away when he licks my chin and cheek. “Nice to see you too, Leo. Now go. Your mom is waiting.”

I rub the moisture from my cheek and try not to notice Aren looking at me as the pup bounds to the house. Dania sinks into a crouch and holds her arms out for Leo, who jumps into them.

Smiling, she lifts him and carries him inside, calling out, “Thanks.” Then she tells the wolf. “You are in so much trouble for chewing through…”

The door swings shut behind them, so I miss what he bit to escape being grounded.

Considering the last time he slipped out of the house and was nearly trampled by a four-hundred-pound deer, I fully understand why his mom is being so protective.

I watch them, still smiling faintly. “When will he stop being so…”

“Like a pup?” Aren suggests.

I nod.

When I turn to look at him, I find him watching me with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Something about the intensity of his stare makes me want to look away.

I don’t look away because that might give him the impression that I’m scared of him. When I lift my chin, holding his stare, I can’t help but notice one corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile, as if he knows what I’m thinking and why.

He shrugs. “Who knows? He just had an exciting new world open up to him, and he wants to explore all of it. The world will eventually stop being so exciting or he’ll get fed up with his mom yelling at him and start listening. It took me a week of being growled at by my dad. What about you?”

I don’t remember.

I think I was eight or nine when I was in the basement. Maybe younger. My dad put me in there, and I don’t know what I did to deserve it. Before that, Mom was sick for a long time. She died, and I think it was my fault.

Maybe that’s why I had to live in the basement.

Before that? My memory is a patchwork quilt with most of the patches missing.

“Kat?”

I turn my head.

Aren is studying me, a line between his eyebrows. “You look sad.”

Because I am.

There’s so much about myself I wish I knew, but a part of me is almost afraid to. I saw a documentary once about someone who had amnesia because something so horrific had happened to them that their mind made them forget to protect themselves.

I’m scared that the things I forgot are so bad that I don’t want to remember them.

My happier memories are more recent—Robert, my foster dad, who truly cared about me before bodega robbers killed him. The few friends I made in college who didn’t pry into my past and accepted me at face value. And Doug, the guy I dated in my junior year, whom I loved.

Yet, here I am sitting by a creek, not doing a damn thing to find Doug’s killer. I get up, brushing the grass from my pants as I stand. “What’s the fastest way to get rid of your unwanted friend so you can play bait to lure a killer?”

A hint of amusement flickers across his gaze. “Have sex in front of him.”

I walked right into that one.

I give him a look that communicates the impossibility of that happening.

He snorts. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

I’m turning to leave when he snags my wrist, tugging me back. “You can talk to me, you know? About anything you want.”

I twist my wrist and his hand falls away. “To do that, I would have to trust you.”

I leave unsaid the thing I can’t envision myself ever doing.

Giving him my trust.

With no idea where I’m going, I keep walking, seeing where my feet take me.

I keep expecting Aren to follow me into the forest, but to my surprise, when I peek over my shoulder, he’s still sitting beside the creek.

He’s not looking at the water. He’s looking at me, and he seems troubled.

I wander into the forest, breathing in the scent of the grass, pine trees, and wildflowers, appreciating the quiet. I love it here and I don’t want to.

Hungry, I don’t go far, just ten minutes before I turn back.

Aren is no longer sitting beside the creek. He must have gone inside to eat breakfast.

As I head toward the log house, another cabin captures my attention.

It sits nestled between the big, two-story log house and the long, single-story bunkhouse where most of the pack sleep.

The schoolroom.

The faint sound of conversation drifts from behind the white lace curtains, and I wander toward it, drawn by my curiosity.

Other than Leo, I haven’t seen any of the other pups, but it sounds like they might be having a class.

I’ll stick my head in and then eat something.

But the moment I do that, Gregor, sitting on top of a desk in what looks to be an old-style school room, stops talking.

“You’re a little too young for this class,” he tells me when the handful of kids twist to face me.

“Sorry for interrupting.” I apologize, turning to leave.

“You can stay if you’d like,” he says. “We always have room for one more.”

“Yeah, stay,” Leo says with a grin.

He’s human for this class, so he can’t have been a wolf for long when I last saw him.

“Okay.”

The chairs are kid-size, but I manage to squeeze my booty into one.

Gregor picks up a white notebook from the desk beside him and crosses over to hand it—and a pen—to me. “In case you want to take notes.” His eyes sparkle. “I always encourage note-taking in my classes.”

“Thanks.”

There’s little else in the room. Just a large blackboard on the wall behind him, the tables and chairs for the kids, and a closed door on his left that might lead to a closet or bathroom.

“We were going over our forms. Third form is always a topic of excitement,” Gregor says, perching on the edge of his desk.

“Third form?” I frown.

Gregor blinks, and I mentally sigh. I guess that’s something else I should know.

The list is getting longer by the day.

“Who knows what the third form is?” he asks, sweeping his gaze around the room.

Six hands shoot up.

Everyone in the room.

Except me.

I drag my notebook closer, flip it open and pick up my pen, preparing to take notes because I know economics, but I know shit about how to be a shifter.

He nods at a little girl with bright red pigtails. “Saskia. Why don’t you tell us about the three forms?”

She’s utterly adorable, maybe six or seven. She gets to her feet, stands tall, and, after glancing at me, speaks slowly and clearly. “The three forms are wolf-wolf?—”

“Human-wolf.” Leo leaps from his seat, snarling as he curls his fingers into claws that he drags through the air like Wolverine.

“Leo, what have I told you about doing that in here?” Gregor asks mildly.

He slumps into his seat. “To save it for after class or play time. I could take someone's eye out.”

I look down, hiding my smile.

“Saskia?” Gregor prompts.

“The three forms are wolf-wolf, human-wolf—but only alphas and betas can do that—and third form. Only Aren can do wolf-human-wolf.”

Wolf-human-wolf?

I sit up in my seat, curious. “He can?”

She nods, pigtails bobbing. “It’s how he won the Wolf King Trials. It’s a wolf's head, human body and wolf claws. No one can win a fight against the third form. That’s why the alpha he was fighting ran away and hid under his bed.”

Gregor is definitely swallowing a smile as he nods somberly. “Thank you, Saskia. You can sit down now.”

“The third form, as Saskia correctly noted, is rare. Aren is the first alpha in three generations to master it. It comprises the strengths of a human and a wolf.”

Leo turns to me. “I tried to bring him for show and tell, but he wouldn’t show.”

I bite back my smile. “He wouldn’t? What a terrible man.”

“Unfortunately,” Gregor interjects. “Third form is not appropriate for show and tell. It is a lifesaving ability that consumes a great deal of strength and energy that is better spent saving the pack than showing his claws in class, Leo.”

The rest of the class isn’t as exciting.

A lot of what Gregor covers seems designed to highlight things I don’t know.

Shifter history. Pack hierarchy. And he gives me a brief glance when he asks the kids to explain the role of the Luna, the female leader of the pack.

I take notes diligently, and when class is over an hour later, my stomach is well and truly growling—so is my wolf—and I have nearly six pages worth of notes.

I walk out clutching my notebook, the last to leave as the kids sprint to the house, the creek, or wherever else they like to hang out after class.

Aren is leaning on the wall outside the schoolroom, arms folded.

He nods at my notebook. “How was class?”

“Interesting.” Beats any economic class ever.

Leo is sprinting down to the creek, clearly with one goal in mind, when I flinch as a woman yells, “Leonardo Kasen, don’t you dare leap in that creek before you’ve done your homework!”

Shoulders low, dejected, Leo swings back around and walks to his mom waiting for him outside the bunkhouse.

“I thought there would be more growling in lessons,” I say to Aren as we walk to the log house.

“There are, but they come later.” He holds the door open for me. “Rules are important. People can die without them. Let's eat.”

I eye him suspiciously. “You keep trying to feed me.”

“Do I?” He leads the way to the dining room. “What did you learn about in class?”

Still suspicious about his intentions, I trail him, curious about this conversation. “The third form.”

“Ah.”

I try to envision him as a man with a wolf's head, a terrifying and powerful form that won a fight.

He flashes me a grin, showing off a boyish side. “Do you want to see it?”

“Of course not,” I deny.

But I do. Truly, I do.

He gives me a knowing look. “You sure?”

I need to work on my lying face. Aren is proving too adept at knowing when I’m lying.

“Leo was disappointed you didn’t do it for show and tell.” I take a plate he fills with fried chicken, corn salad, and chopped watermelon. “And I could have done that.”

Aren glances at my face, catches me eyeing the large platter of fried chicken—my favorite—and adds three more pieces to my plate.

Seriously, I need to work on hiding my expressions.

“Now you don’t have to.” He hands me the plate and fills his own. “Leo might be excited to have seen the third form, but it can be a little scary. Not all the other pups would have appreciated it.”

“Where do the older kids learn?”

“They learn the best way they can once they’ve learned the basic rules in class.” He sweeps his hand around the room. “With the rest of the pack. By doing. And by making mistakes, the way everyone else learns.”

No sooner have we sat at a table and started eating than Finan walks in.

“Aren?” Finan appears in the doorway, nodding at me before he refocuses on Aren. “It’s here.”

I stop filling a glass full of water from a jug on the table to glance from Aren to Finan. “What’s here?”

Aren shovels a few more mouthfuls of food into his mouth and gets to his feet. “Just a delivery. Don’t come upstairs until I come get you.”

As he walks out, I hear him ask Finan, “Where is Tagge?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen him,” Finan responds.

“Maybe that means he’s left,” Aren mutters.

I’m still curious about this delivery and the strict order not to go upstairs, but I have a plate of crispy fried chicken in front of me. Whatever Aren is up to can wait until I’ve eaten.

I dig in.