Page 17 of Tamed Wolf (Rejected Mates of the Shelter #4)
Brooks, Now
I’ve been told many times throughout my life that I’m too soft to be an alpha. A lot of people told my father that my empathy was something that needed to be trained out of me if I was going to help my brothers take over the pack someday. But right now, as I cradle this woman in my lap and we get her to the healer, it's exactly what she needs. Blake is so pissed that he’s vibrating, and I know that if we weren’t such high profile in the pack, Blake would have murdered those scumbags the second we walked into the club tonight.
“You’re so beautiful, and you’re so strong. I’m so sorry that they didn’t know what they had, I just want to give you everything. I guess we both got dealt pretty shitty hands in the mate department.”
She looks up at me and blinks. “Mate?”
Gods I love how that word sounds coming from her mouth. I know she’s out of it, so I have no idea how much of this she’s going to retain later, but I know I need to keep talking to her like she’s herself. “Yeah, mate. I’ve wanted one for so long.”
“You’d be perfect,” she sighs dreamily. Then adds, “Good dad.”
“Is there anything I can do for you right now as we drive to make you more comfortable?”
“Don’t let go,” she whispers before her consciousness seems to fade away.
“Never,” I whisper as I kiss her forehead.
Maybe some people would think it’s weird that we’re attracted to this woman who is so much older than us, but I can’t really think of age as anything other than a number now that I’ve had a taste of who she is. I don’t even know her much, but my wolf tells me I’d be the dumbest shifter alive to let her go.
When we finally make it to the Alpha House, a few healing assistants bolt outside, ready to carefully bring her inside. Nobody questions why we’re so attached to her, and my dad is there checking everything out, seeing the condition she’s in, which is only going to build a stronger case against her ex-mates.
I stay by her side and hold her hand while Blake passes the stupid syringe to the healer, explaining what we know. Her vitals are all shit of course, but her heartbeat is strong enough that he’s not worried about anything real serious happening immediately.
“Alright you guys, stay with her. I’m going to run some tests and see if I can figure out what exactly is in the vial.”
I can see that Beckett’s just itching to be where I am, so I switch places with him and take Rowan, needing something to hold on to. “You should use some of your sweet baby magic on her. She could really use it, buddy,” I whisper to him as I use him as an anchor, kissing his head and hugging him to me.
I try and keep Rowan calm as we walk around the room, because I can’t bear to walk away and not be here.
Just when my patience starts running really thin, the healer comes back in looking somewhat resigned. “Alright. Her blood work just came back. They’ve administered a lot of that stuff, and her body hasn’t been given what the medication makes her body need. The way these hormones work is that they make the body believe they’re going into heat, but if the brain isn’t willing, or the partner isn’t acceptable, then oftentimes we see a lot of adverse reactions. We use this in packs that are struggling to conceive, to try and kick start a heat or make them arrive sooner so that they can try for a baby, but clearly, it’s being abused here.”
I bite back the urge to give a sarcastic reply, but I'm going out of my mind witnessing Lark in this state. It's wrong.
“Okay,” Beckett drawls. “Can we help her? It's reversible, right? What are the long-term effects? How do we help her through this?”
The healer removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling as if he doesn't want to say what he's about to say. “Reversible, if the heat is satisfied. We could potentially sedate her for a few days while her body tries to metabolize everything they gave her, but I worry about adding anything else to her system right now. She could be just fine, or she could react even worse to that course of action.”
I get up nice and close to her, resting my hand on the shin of her leg. The hospital blanket is thin, and all I want to do is pull her out of here and bring her somewhere soft and cozy. “What do you suggest?” I ask him.
“I take it you all are romantically involved with her? I don't say this to be nosy, but in interest of medical pursuit.”
I'm sure by the look on all of our faces he realizes that saying we're romantically involved with her is a stretch, but we're about to be involved any which way if it helps her through this. “What does she need?” I try asking again.
“The best and quickest way to get her through this,” he starts explaining slowly, “is to fully trigger the heat, let her give in to it, and indulge it. If that were to happen, the hormones her body would naturally produce would flush out all the false ones and help her regain balance. And I suspect that with a proper heat, she'd be back to normal as soon as it ended.”
“The problem, Doc,” Beckett says, “is that she's not quite able to give consent to us, now, is she?”
“Maybe not with her human side,” he insinuates, “but you could see if her wolf is amenable.”
We all shake our heads. “Not good enough. If we don't know if she wants this, we can't touch her.”
“What he said,” Blake agrees, nodding his head toward me.
“If it's that important to you, I could give her a small hit of adrenaline. It ought to clear her mind for a few minutes or so, but she’ll likely crash afterwards.”
It seems like an obvious question, but I need to ask it anyway. “Would that harm her?”
“Look, I'm going to be straight with you. She's strung out. I'm telling you what her body needs, and I respect that you want to respect her; we're talking about her health, and you're worried about whether or not she'll hate you after you help her. I get it, I do, but wolves... we operate differently. I suspect you'll know if she wants it or not, I trust you guys to know the difference between a woman who's into it and a woman who's not.
“Obviously I'm not telling you to start forcing yourself on her, I would never. I'm saying get her somewhere comfortable and quiet, spend some time with her, help her relax, start with gentle touches on her arm or her hand or her head, see how she reacts. You'll know pretty quick what she wants. Your smells will permeate whatever state she's in, and it's going to help her know who's with her.
“Or, you know, just let her keep suffering. That's a good option too I guess, if you want to wait until she can look at you wide-eyed and say she wants you. You're not going to get the consent you're really looking for; it's going to be a lot more nuanced than that right now.”
“Thanks doc,” Beckett says, sounding resigned.
“Call me if there are any changes, you know I'll stop by. I assume you'll be taking her to your place?”
“Considering her other option is the shelter, yeah. She's coming with us.”
“We should go get our things from the shelter,” I suggest. “That way she’ll have something familiar with her.”
The doc looks at me and nods. “That's a good idea. Anything familiar to her will help immensely. If you try all this, and she shows no outward change of healing or coming back to herself, let me know and we'll run some more tests and check her levels. If her heats have been delayed too long or if she's taken suppressors in the past, it could greatly affect how she handles this. Just keep an eye on her for me like I know you will. You're good guys, I trust you.”
Then it's just us and our dad who I definitely forgot was in the room, and Lark, who's still unconscious.
I look down at the cute baby in my arms, knowing it will be a challenge to keep him entertained and occupied while the house is full of who knows what kind of pheromones and noises.
Dad walks up to us, face sober as he appraises the woman laying out before us. “She's special?”
Beckett takes point, shaking his head. “I don't know what it is, Dad. It's just weird. We met her under interesting circumstances, but there was instant recognition. Have you ever heard of somebody getting another chance at a mate?”
“Actually, yeah. Under the right circumstances a mate bond can be triggered. It's called a trauma response mating, and it presents differently than a natural one, but you'll definitely feel that pull. If you and your potential mate are both feeling the connection up front, it can slide into place. It's rare, because the condition has to be just right, everybody has to be receptive, but...” and he meets all of our eyes, “it's no less real. I'm not going to be dumb and ask you guys if you're sure, because I don't give a flying fuck if she's a bit older than you. Not if she treats you right and makes you happy. Goddess knows you need all the happiness you can get after what that other awful woman put you through.
“We've had to watch you guys suffer so much, and you've been so strong and been such good dads to little Rowan here. I really want this to be a good thing for you, to really give this the attention it needs, and take care of her and explore this. Not for the pack, but for you. If there's even a chance she's feeling this like you are, then you're the only ones that can help her right now anyway.
“Which is why,” he says, coming over to my son and plucking him out of my hands, “me and mom are gonna hang out with this guy while you help Lark. I know you guys have a hard time accepting help, but please don't fight me on this. You know we love this kid to pieces; he’ll want for nothing. We know what we're doing. And you know if we have questions, we'll call you. If she's had it as rough as I suspect she has, she deserves a happy ending, too. I'm gonna put a call out to the pack and we'll get some supplies delivered to you guys.”
“I want to go get her stuff,” I volunteer. “I don't want anybody else touching her things.”
“That's fine,” my dad says, trying to fight a smile.
“Whether this takes two days or six or longer even, we've got this. You just do what you need to do. This could be the start of something incredible for you.”
He walks out of the room pressing little kisses all over Rowan’s cheeks before then moving to his neck, and while it's weird to think of being away from my kid for several days, the idea of having a break makes my knees want to buckle.
“If either of you have any objections to this, you need to voice them now,” Beckett announces, dead serious.
Blake gets closer to Lark, rests his forehead against hers, and inhales slowly. He traces her face with a finger more gently than I've ever seen him touch anybody, then takes his place right next to her head. He stares down Beckett, daring him to tell him to move away.
“Understood,” Beckett says and then he meets my eyes. “I think I know what you want, but I still need to hear it. Are you good with this, brother?”
“What if it doesn't work out like we want it to? What if we build up all this hope and we take the time and the bond gets stronger, and she doesn't want us?”
“No risk, no reward,” Blake says.
“If we only did things we knew for sure would work out, we'd never do anything,” Beckett responds. “You in or out, Brooks?”
With my arms itching to pull her into them, I state, “In.”
???
With all of that decided, I head to the shelter which will take me a good while to drive to and from, wishing I could completely clear out her stuff. My mom popped in to tell us she'd call ahead and let them know one of us was coming, and that we had permission to access Lark’s room and her things. Not having to explain my presence there will be helpful, but I'm not excited about being in that place again. Haven't been there much but seeing it with fresh eyes knowing it’s where Lark has spent most of her life, I know it's going to enrage me.
The entire drive over I can't get Lark’s face out of my mind, but I know the sooner I get this done, the sooner I can inhale that decadent scent of hers again and drown in it. We shared a heat with our ex, but I don't think this one's going to be anything like that.
That one was triggered as well, but she was always so cold, and I always felt like she was putting on an act around us. What would it be like to be with somebody that truly wanted us?
I know we're working off of a lot of assumptions here, because there's a good chance that Lark won't want us to touch her, but the thought of it has me rock hard. I'm grateful for the baggy pants I'm wearing as I park the truck and ring the doorbell at the front of the shelter.
“Alpha,” the woman that answers says in deference, bowing her head.
“Um, hi. I think my mom called ahead?”
She opens the door and beckons me in. “How is Lark?” she asks instead of responding.
Just hearing her name on somebody else's lips makes me jittery, feeling like I need to get back to her. “Not great.”
“And the two idiots that squandered their gift?”
I shrug. “Last I saw them, they were locked in a dog kennel. I think Dad's taking care of them; Lark was our first priority.”
She cackles and it changes her whole face as she leads me down the hall. “Excellent.”
“Now isn't really the time,” I start, “but I know there are a bunch of old laws that need to be fixed. We'd love to work with you. Me and my brothers are intent on making things better for the wolves that have to live here. Starting with funding,” I say as the leaky ceiling drops water right on my forehead. I stop and look up at it, noticing how outdated and stained everything is. “We need to do something about this building. People that live here don't deserve this.”
“I appreciate that, but we make it work.”
“I’m certain we can do better than that.”
She squeezes my arm as we get to a door that I know is Lark’s purely from the scent emanating from it. “She's lived here a while, then?”
“She gave birth to that 22-year-old kid in this room. Yeah, she's been here a while. Of course, there were a few years where she was in and out, mostly out, but this has always been her room. Do you need anything else?”
She opens the door for me, and I walk in, trying to take it in. But words don't do it justice. I wanna burn it to the fucking ground. Maybe my voice comes out a little short, but I hope she knows it’s because I think it’s vile that this is how these wolves are living. “Give me a list of the most urgent needs,” I prompt. “I want to do something about this, and I don't want to wait.” I pull out my wallet and grab a business card with my contact info, passing it to her. “I'm serious about this. If I don't hear from you by tomorrow, I'll show back up, and I don't think either of us want that. Lark needs me, but so does the rest of my pack.”
“There is more than one alpha that has wolves here,” she reminds me. “This is every pack’s cast-offs.”
“Then I'll be the liaison, and I'll contact the other pack alphas. We'll figure something out.”
A tear wells in her eye as she nods and walks out, gripping the business card tightly. “Thank you,” she whispers, and then she's gone.
I sit on what passes for a bed in this room, my tailbone immediately hitting the creaky rusty metal frame underneath the mattress. There's no padding at all. I lean forward and rest my face in my hands, depression washing over me. This has been Lark’s existence. And I thought we had it bad?
I take pictures of everything I can, because I know that people need to see this. No one knows what it's really like here unless they have someone close to them that was rejected. I don't even know the last time any alpha stepped foot here. It seems as if all the packs just pass forward the requisite tithes to keep this shelter running and then call it a day, because it's depressing and completely run down. A few of the packs consider these wolves not to be their problem once they're rejected, but these are people that need somebody on their side.
With ideas flowing through me, I muscle open the sticky closet door to gather her belongings, and the closet is so moldy that I’m sure there’s a leak somewhere in the walls.
There’s hardly anything in here worth taking, but I pack it all anyway. I also pack the thin blanket spread over the bed and a folded up blanket the size of an infant, the only nice thing in the room that's tucked into the top of the closet. I'm assuming this was the baby blanket of Camden's, and while I can't relinquish this room for her without her permission, I can hope that she doesn't ever have to step foot back here again.
In fact, I'll make sure of it. Surely as the heirs to the pack, we have some say in where somebody can live. I’ll build her a damn house with my own two hands if she doesn’t want to live with us. That's fine. She's not coming back here, though.