Page 17 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)

I spent my time healing at the women's cabin, though Mary always made sure to keep herself between me and Penny. From what I heard, Penny did the same with Mike.

During the days and nights, I learned all I could about magic and especially shifters.

Some townsfolk warned me about two bayou women—witches, they hinted—who could help me, but always for a price.

It seemed foolish to even mention them, but I suppose they figured it was better coming from them than someone else.

The other choice for pure survival was to mate with another Omega. Henry and I would still fight, but I'd have powers without Mike. The only way to save and claim him as my own was to be unmated and with nothing supernatural to help.

The day passed in a blur, and Nixon chatted about the space shuttle, something I'm sure Mike knew all about.

The president announced his reelection plans, and I sighed with relief.

Vietnam would be over soon for sure, and we might have a new state.

I wished I could have gone and done my duty, but I had a fight here.

Mike begged me to run, but I refused. I wasn't leaving. Not after finding him. I would stand my ground and tell that wolf 'no.'

Soon, I stood in a dirt parking lot, an abandoned grocery store looming in the distance.

It's like a store two men could run together.

Images of Mike and I having arguments on how to run a business and then making up after faded away. Henry emerged beneath a cloudy sky, his upswept black hair catching the faint light. His eyes, hidden in shadow, were already dark, but somehow, they looked as dark as his soul.

Same eyes as Charles Manson, except Manson had his cultists do the killing.

This wolf wanted to kill me himself.

Mike stood between us, per shifter law. We each had a claim on him, which didn't sit right. He was his own man, but not the guy I remember.

I'll find a way to get the real you back.

At least he didn't have new bruises or worse. My dad sent a few 'hysterical' women back to their husbands, who later fell on the front porch or walked into a door. These officers and their handlebar-mustached sheriff had common sense.

The sheriff's blue-eyed boy, Wyatt, stood next to him. Heard the kid wanted to be an officer one day, so his pa let him watch. Sounded fine in most cases, but tonight he might witness a murder.

Beyond them sat the tall and thin pack leader, draped in shadows. So far, I haven't seen him much. Mysterious or someone who didn't involve himself? Hints from the other shifters implied they didn't care for him.

The sheriff stepped between us. "Nothing but natural weapons, so it's a shifter versus shifter fight." He smiled apologetically at me. I'm stronger than most folks and agile, but I had to fight magic.

Wolf law and decorum kept Mike from being overt, but he stared at me and not Henry.

"Nobody helps," shouted the sheriff. "Otherwise, it's invalid… and go."

Henry charged, his black eyes gleaming with rage. His loose clothing whipped around him as he threw a flurry of punches. Each one sliced the air like a hornet's sting. Some glanced off me, hurting like hell and cracking bone.

Blocking took away most of their power, but his strength was still enough to kill. If he did, that wouldn't satisfy him. I guarantee it. He'd take it out on Mike for years and be sneaky enough to get away with it.

I have to do this.

Henry was full of hate but knew how to act. He couldn't just beat me but had to prove his Alpha dominance. Shifting meant he needed the extra help against a simple human. Technically, a shifter with no powers. Multiple punches wasted his breath and energy while he showed off.

He's posing!

I didn't go for the easy shot. Instead, I jabbed my fingers straight into his black eyes. He staggered, cursing, and I followed up with an uppercut that cracked against his nose. Blood sprayed in a dark-red arc, and the crowd gasped.

"Thought shifters were fighters," I said. "How is it I can hit you?"

A flurry came, sending mostly missed punches, but one connected. Copper-tasted blood ran over my lips. Maybe I lost a tooth, I couldn't tell in all the warm fluid.

"Enough of a hit for you, baby wolf?"

"No," I lied. From the slight wind and direction, he wouldn't smell my garbage scent. "Come on, why don't you show me a real bloody nose?"

He was easy to bait. With my hands tightening like I was about to sock him, I Bruce-Lee-kicked him in the balls.

I got one more hit before he socked me across the face with strength I'm sure would shatter concrete.

Whatever skill I had barely kept my head attached.

A supernaturally strong jab to my spine or neck would finish me off.

I stumbled away or hoped I did while my vision blurred. The hit never came, but a growl rumbled from within Henry's torn clothing. A few quick blinks later, the largest wolf I'd ever seen leapt and knocked me to the ground.

This wasn't to win a fist fight, but to make sure I'd never fight again. He'd eat my flesh and bones, taking me out of Mike's life forever and teach him a lesson: Cross me and look at what'll happen to you.

Punches and kicks I could defend against, but this was pure animalistic hatred, raking black claws over my chest and neck.

Warm, red lines bubbled out and my skin seized with electric pain.

My fist came down like a hammer over his black nose, and I followed it with a short punch. A high-pitched yip echoed in the night.

Dogs never cared for me, even though I'd never hurt one. My shifter nature meant they saw me as a predator, but we had them at the station. The most sensitive spot, besides their balls, was the nose. Wolves weren't different.

The sheriff's rules said any natural weapons, and I didn't have time for a clarification. With both hands, I ground dusty dirt and gravel into Henry's now yellow eyes. He shook violently, snapping his jaws.

I backed off, searching for a rock.

He couldn't see but smelled just fine. With perfect aim, he leapt toward me digging claws into my already torn flesh, throwing me back down. My fists slammed into his black canine ears, delivering pain but not enough.

White teeth sank into my neck and shoulder. The first bite. Soon he'd have me as a finished meal.

I failed.

Shouts erupted from the crowd, telling someone to step back. Mike skidded near me and screamed, "Stop!"

Henry snapped his jaw, throwing bile, and warning his Omega to back off. Mike stumbled, and his leg grazed over a long, white tooth. Through a small tear in his pant leg wafted a slight copper scent.

My left thumb dug into Henry's yellow wolf eye, not popping but wishing I did.

He yelped before thrashing back and adding another scratch to Mike's wounds.

This was an accident, but he did plenty already.

I brought my head down on his snout and it put me in a terrible position. One neck bite would end me.

"Stop!" You wouldn't think Mike's tiny voice would quiet a crowd, but it did. Even the pack leader whispered to his sheriff. Mike's shaky hands pulled me away from Henry, while the sheriff ran over and did the same with Henry.

"Invalid." The sheriff turned to Mike. "You interfered with the fight. Nobody won."

Mike's faint-green eyes narrowed, his lips trembling. Seconds stretched like eternity as he stared into the night, his thoughts unreadable—except for the sharp scent of blood and anger curling in the cold air.

He spun to Henry shifting back into his naked and bloodied human form. "I… I'm not your Omega, because of what you did."

The crowd's murmur wasn't directed at just Henry. Wolves mate for life unless one dies, but there were other reasons.

Mike raised his pant leg showing the wet, red scratch to everyone.

He raised his wrist, speaking of a now faded bruise and other abuse.

Some wolves weren't bothered. To them, Alphas knew better, so what if Henry got rid of books with uppity ideas or listened to the Alpha's music instead?

Omegas were emotional and not made for real thinking. That's why they needed an Alpha.

However, a bruise—even if almost gone—converted many, as did the thin blood running down his calf. Mike looked up into the sheriff's eyes. "If an Alpha physically attacks his Omega, that's grounds for a separation." It wasn't a question.

"Yep, the Omega's right." The sheriff knew Mike got scratched because he ran over, but there was earlier abuse. He had a policeman's instinct and if this is what it took, he'd agree to it.

He turned to the skinny pack leader. "I see multiple wounds on an Omega, delivered by an Alpha in front of witnesses. Likewise, I smell no lies from him."

Henry's eyes, one good and the other bloodied, glared with hate but stayed quiet. If he were smart enough to shut up, I'd do the same.

The thin pack leader licked his lips while thinking of the best decision. Not for the wolves I'm sure, but him. Something about his style didn't sit right with me, but for now, I'd listen.

"Henry Simmons," he said with a flat voice. "You have not proven you can take proper care of your Omega. There were whispers before, but we now have proof. Only one thing can keep you together."

What? Even after all that?

"Is the Omega with child?"

He has a name!

The sheriff leaned over Mike, sniffed, and shook his head no. His released breath hinted it was a 'Very Lucky Thing.'

"…since no pup was created," continued the pack leader, "there is no bond. Thus, the connection is dissolved."

Mike hugged himself but didn't come over to me.

The sheriff whispered 'Go' and I did, taking Mike with me. An enemy was still alive with hate magnified because I took his Omega. Staying in town would complicate our lives. Still, I could have died, leaving him with a monster.

I didn't finish the battle, more like survive, but I'd win the war.

***

There was no cabin with a picket fence, but the 'confusion' left. I found what I searched for and so did Mike, I hope. We didn't sleep together on the first night, out of respect toward Penny and Mary because we lived in their cabin.

I expected an attack from Henry, but the sheriff said he was under probation since he attacked his former Omega.

Soon, we rented a cabin since we put the womenfolk out enough. I've had wishes in my life, like wondering if my number got called, but I'm happy this one came true. Mike, to my relief and frustration, agreed to live under the same roof.

A beaten-down man doesn't come back right away. My long hitchhiking journey proved that, but slowly there were hints of the frustrating man I loved and admired. He even pushed back, making sure his radio station played The Grateful Dead and filling the place with all the business books he lost.

Despite the good, something loomed on the horizon, ready to take it all away.

I expected it to come in the form of an oily-haired Alpha.

Instead, a harsh retch echoed from the bathroom, sending ice down my spine.

An angry Alpha I could fight, but this—this was something else.

Mike staggered out, his face ghost-pale as he leaned against the wood paneling.

He swallowed hard, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I… I'm pregnant."

Everything in me turned cold. Only one man could be the father. And it wasn't me.

If the town found out, Henry could and would take him back.

***