Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (9 page)

I finally decided that while they had an edge of danger in a general sense, I didn’t feel any animosity directed at me. More than that, though, Elijah had reached the group, and a moment later Bryson had emerged to the edge of the mulling gathering —
holy crap, wearing just a pair of jeans, his chest is even more gorgeous than I had imagined
— and he was clearly watching me, or at least my car, still idling there at the side of the road.

Eventually, he lifted a hand, beckoning invitingly. I sighed and turned the car off, swallowed rather hard, and unlocked my door. It took another long moment for me to work up the courage to actually open it. As I stepped out slowly — glad that I had thought to wear sneakers instead of dressier shoes — Bryson beamed at me, and held out a hand, offering for me to come take it.

I took a deep breath, and made my way forward to take that outstretched hand.

❖ ❖ ❖

He kept his hand outstretched to me even as I drew close, until it felt rather silly not to take it. So, I lifted my own hand, placing it lightly in his. I felt a strange sort of warm tingle where our hands touched, and I smiled faintly up at him despite myself, despite all the worries and questions whirling in my head.

As if the touch had been a signal to the group, the soft chatter fell mostly quiet, and they moved around us in a loose circle, again much as they had at the bonfire, but without the air of threat this time. Now it was a sort of attentive curiosity. I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious.

“So. I believe I owe you an explanation, yes?” He chuckled quietly, his eyes crinkling at the edges, looking annoyingly amused. I struggled to focus on his words, and to think about something other than the broad expanse of bare chest only a few inches from my face.

“Well, that is why I’m here.” Given the large group’s rapt attention on us, I tried to keep the tartness out of my tone. I still heard a few soft chuckles around us. This whole situation was deeply strange.

He took a deep breath, and he looked almost as nervous as I felt, suddenly. “I’m sorry, I know this has been difficult for you. Believe it or not, it has been for me, too. It’s unusual for this to have to be,” he paused, seeming to fish for words, “to be
explained
to someone. Usually either you grow up knowing about all this, or you never know about it.”

I tilted my head to one side curiously, at least a dozen questions springing to mind, but I didn’t interrupt him. He had promised me answers, dang it, and I was determined to get them.

He paused again, glancing to the elderly woman I had spotted earlier. Now that I could see her better in the rapidly fading light, I realized she bore a striking resemblance to Bryson. A family member, maybe? She gave him a small but warm smile, nodding slightly, encouraging him I thought. He looked back down to me, his hair falling partially into his face.

“Adalyn, we’re- we’re not like most people you know.”
No shit
, I thought, but managed not to say it. “Some folks might say we aren’t ‘people’ at all.” My eyebrows shot up at that, my mouth dropping open slightly.
Not people?
“We’re what most people would call werewolves, though wolf shape-shifters is more accurate.”

My mouth finished dropping open at that, my eyes huge and round. My mind kept replaying his words over and over, but they refused to make any more sense. Vaguely, I heard a few soft snickers and chuckles from some of the group, but I was too stunned to be offended that I was being laughed at.

I must have been completely blank-eyed, because Bryson patiently waited in silence while I tried in vain to process. Eventually, though, he continued quietly.

“My father was the leader, the alpha, of our pack.”

Unintentionally, I interrupted him with a hysterical little giggle.
Leader of the pack? Seriously?
He raised a brow with a little frown, and I managed to squash the fit of not-quite-mirth.

“When I was a teen, there was another pack trying to take over our territory, so my father sent my mother and me to Charlottesville for safety. But shortly before I turned eighteen, he was killed in a large skirmish. Ultimately, we won, but the pack was left leaderless. Even though I was very young — I hadn’t actually turned for the first time yet — the pack decided they wanted me to take over as Alpha after my father, as it had always been assumed would be the case, just- well, later.”

I just stared at him. I felt like my brain had completely broken, laying in mangled tatters like images of horrific plane crashes.

“That’s why I just disappeared. I couldn’t risk drawing any attention on the pack from outsiders. I hated just leaving you like that; I knew we couldn’t last, but I had always assumed we would part as most high school sweethearts do, long before the pack became an issue.”

❖ ❖ ❖

I don’t know how long I stood there, just staring at him. My sense of the passage of time was as completely ravaged as the rest of my mental faculties. Bryson — and the group surrounding us, for that matter — waited patiently for me to gather up the shredded remnants of my thoughts.

The first thing that began to register on my mind, oddly, was that while I had sensed animosity from the smaller group at the bonfire, this felt more — supportive?

The next thing was the hysterical thought that they must all be completely, stark-raving insane. Werewolves? Shape shifters? All of them? Was this some sort of mass hallucination? Or maybe it was just some sort of ritualism, like how new-agey people sometimes call themselves witches.

It must have been quite a while before my brain rebooted, because when I finally realized my mouth was still hanging open and closed it, it was so completely dry I almost gagged. A jibbering corner of my mind yelled at me to get out of there, to get as far away as I could, but another part wanted desperately to get enough information for this to finally make sense. And the largest part of all, was still too deeply in shock to know what to think, or probably even
how
to think by now.

“S..so why are you t..telling me all this now?” I stuttered a bit thanks to my dry throat, and no doubt my nerves and fragmented thoughts didn’t help.

He smiled a bit at me, as if approving of where my mind went first. “Well, as I said, I had not turned yet when we left to come back here. After we change the first time, our senses change, grow stronger, even as our human selves. That much of the myths are true, at least.”

“What’s that got to do wi-” He cut me off with a gentle finger on my lips. I frowned, but fell silent to wait for him to finish.

“What I didn’t realize then, was what I discovered that first day I saw you on campus a couple weeks ago. I caught a scent of wolf. My mom never really met you properly, and we weren’t here when you were little, my grandfather was still Alpha then, so I had no idea; but you’re half wolf.”

I felt that dumbfounded, blank look come over my face again. “Half… wolf…? What the hell does that mean?”

He nodded slowly. “After I caught your scent, I — well, I guess you could say I did some research.” He chuckled faintly. “I wish I had thought to do it sooner, but it never occurred to me that you might be anything but pure human, since you had no connections to any of the local packs.”

“But?” I prompted. I was both terrified and desperate to hear the remainder of this bizarre tale.

He glanced over at the elderly woman again, briefly, as though seeking strength, or reassurance. She had to be a family member; his grandmother maybe?

“But — it seems your father was a wolf. A lone wolf, a rogue, who turned away from the packs and other wolves, and took a normal human mate. It’s frowned on, but it happens from time to time, especially in the weaker bloodlines.”

He paused again, seeming to search for words, an almost panicky look stealing over his face, brows drawing together. A part of me felt for him; this had to be hard for him, he hadn’t had anything to do with my father, and now it was put on his shoulders to deal with the fallout. And to hurt me, again, and badly, if all of this absurdity was true.

The elderly woman took a step forward then, and spoke up; yes, she must be his grandmother, I thought. The way all the others deferred to him so completely, I couldn’t imagine anyone else speaking up without a direct request. Though her body showed obvious signs of age, her voice was remarkably strong and steady, if quiet.

“When you were little, dear, the Alpha, Bryson’s grandfather, approached your father. While we frown on our own taking human mates, we can deal with it. But we can’t have a wolf around who isn’t affiliated with a pack. It’s too dangerous, for all of us; too much risk of exposure. But, rather than join the pack, he chose to leave. I can’t speak for why he chose to leave you and your mother behind; I can’t even imagine such a thing, especially in a wolf. Family is everything to us. Usually, anyway. Obviously, a rogue is fundamentally different than most of us to begin with.”

❖ ❖ ❖

Abruptly, I found myself laughing. Not just normal laughter, but nearly convulsive guffaws. I was every bit as surprised by it as the shocked expressions around me implied that my audience were. It was just all so completely
ridiculous
.

Bryson’s eyes grew wide, and his brows furrowed. He rested his hands on my arms gently, rubbing a bit. “Adalyn? Are you alright?”

“Alright?
Alright?!
No, I am not alright! I am so far from alright that it isn’t even in the same ballpark anymore!” I was laughing, and shrieking, and falling rapidly into true hysterics.

“Shh, shhh, Ada, honey, calm down,” he urged again.
Is it just me, or is this becoming an unpleasant pattern?

The small crowd around us shifted and fidgeted uncomfortably, and seemed to draw in closer, forming a solid ring around us as if they were afraid I would bolt and needed to be caught. I couldn’t quite decide if that was reassuring or troubling.

I looked up at him, and the hysteria shifted directions dizzyingly, suddenly igniting in anger.

“Is this all some sick joke? Are you all in need of padded rooms? Are you trying to drive
me
insane? Stalking me and leading me on wild goose chases and now you’re fucking
werewolves?
”

Bryson’s head jerked back as if I had slapped him again, his eyes looking even more hurt than when I actually had. “Adalyn, no, no it’s nothing like that, I-”

I interrupted him, jerking out of his grasp, though of course I couldn’t go far, thanks to the now very solid ring of people standing shoulder-to-shoulder around us.

“You’re all crazy!” I shrieked at them accusingly. Many of them looked concerned, or even sympathetic, which only fueled my frenzied agitation. “This is so completely fucking
insane!
You all need mental help!” I began to shake, tears pricking at my eyes, fury and terror and confusion and a dozen other emotions besides, all in a turmoil inside me.

Bryson, eyes wide, looked to the older woman again, his expression remarkably boy-like for a young man purportedly in charge of this varied group of people. I was vaguely aware of her frown and shrug, and the little forward motion she made with her hand, as if to say ‘go ahead’. He nodded slightly in response, and looked back at me, a sort of peacefulness stealing over his features as his mind visibly settled on his course.

The fear took ascendancy over the turmoil, then, and I stumbled backwards, though I was quickly stopped by the ring of people. They were gentle, no one grabbed me or anything like that, but they didn’t let me escape past them, either.

Bryson took a few slow, deep breaths, and I could have sworn his eyes flashed a vibrant, glowing greenish-gold before he closed them. The air around him seemed to tremble, as if he had suddenly increased temperature so much that he was giving off visible heatwaves.

My mind could find no words for what came next. He seemed to… to
melt
, but not in a liquid way. More than anything, it reminded me of old stop-action clay animation. It was both fascinating, and gut-wrenchingly disturbing. The shimmery heat-wave like quality of the air around him obscured most of what I am sure were disturbing details, but it was still all I could do not to gag and retch seeing what I could see.

He lowered to the ground, and the shape of him changed, and when the air finally cleared, sure enough: instead of familiar young man with the broad chest and chin-length brown hair with honey highlights, was a huge cream-and-honey colored wolf, looking up at me expectantly with entirely too-familiar amber brown eyes.