Wolf Next Door (6 page)

But he’d never chosen to submit to his mate. No, he’d lorded his dominance over her and, instead of fighting him, instead of pushing back, she’d left. His wolf growled and Ty studied the place where Mason vanished into the trees. Ty took more than an inch. If he’d pulled half of the crap with his brothers that he’d pulled with Claire through the years, they would have pounded him flat.

His wolf understood the answer before he did, and Ty began to grin. She hadn’t fought him because her wolf didn’t want to fight him. Last night, she could have thrown him out, but she hadn’t. She’d dictated her terms and left him to make the choice for himself.

Well, two wolves could play that game. Hope and determination flooded him for the first time in years. He had the scent of the hunt now. Claire wanted a choice? Then he’d give her one and prove to her he was the right mate for her.

The only mate.

A
fter stacking
the last of her father’s books into a box, Claire sealed it and scrawled a note across the top for the library. Twenty-five boxes of books and she planned to donate all of them. The last time she’d cracked a book had been in high school and, since she hadn’t graduated—well, reading wasn’t her thing. The dust level in the room was ridiculous. She’d spent her afternoon sneezing even after she’d opened every available window.

With a bottle of polish and some rags, she began wiping down every wooden surface. Gradually, inch-by-inch, she reclaimed her father’s office. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the scent of him lingering in the room. He’d have hated what she’d done to survive. An academic, her father had served as pack historian. He’d told her once that he wanted her to take over for him and to carry on the oral histories of their people.

“Well, that didn’t happen.” Setting aside the rag and polish, she circled the large desk. The leather chair carried a hint of her father’s cologne and more of his scent. Sliding onto the soft seat, she pressed her nose to the leather and inhaled deeply. All through her childhood, she could wander into his office and find him working—detailing a history from memory onto paper or making notes about the latest event.

Hours she’d spent, curled on his lap as he spoke to others when they came to him with their questions. She’d been there when Andrew Clayborne asked him a series of hard questions about their alpha. She’d been there when Ryan Huston sat across from her father to detail his mating—he’d wanted a history set aside for his daughter Alexis. Human or not, she belonged in the annals.

She’d even been there when Toman came and ordered her father to strike certain people from the histories. The alpha had been furious, the cold anger a lash he used to strike with every syllable. Throughout the scolding, her father kept his eyes down, but she hadn’t been able to stop watching their alpha. Three weeks of nightmares followed that visit. Every one ended the same way—Toman tore her father’s throat out, and she’d hated him a little bit more each time.

Her father or her alpha? She couldn’t really be sure which. Straightening, Claire rubbed her hands over her face. Everything on her was gritty and grimy. Despite all of Toman’s anger and threats, her father hadn’t stricken the names from the histories, he’d simply stopped submitting them. She’d found an entire cache of journals behind one of the bookshelves. Those she’d boxed and marked with Mason’s name.

He was alpha, making them his problem.

The difficulty of being the historian’s child was her memory. She recalled every conversation with such clarity, so they continued to haunt her. In Sutter Butte, after her first year—her first kills—she’d heard someone mention her potential. The word awoke a memory of her parents arguing over her father’s refusal to concede the alpha’s position.

“He wants to drive out the alpha potentials. That is his right,” Julius Webster told his mate. “They are still a part of our pack. They are still a part of our history. Pretending they never existed doesn’t erase them.”

She had alpha potential. Ages old anger and frustration flooded her. Potential meant the ability to achieve, not the desire or the actual achievement. She had historian potential, too, due to her flawless memory and honed by her father’s lessons. Hell, for that matter, she could cook. What the fuck good was alpha potential when it caused so much strife and misery?

Telling Tyler about Justin had been the right thing to do, but his indecipherable reaction left her floundering. He’d finished the meal and left. No word. No explanation. Maybe she should have looked after his injuries after his fight with Linc. Guilt nibbled on her conscience. Most wolves were unreasonable after a fight, and it helped prevent further fights to not push them. He’d stayed, so maybe it meant something. He’d spoken to her, too.

‘Course, maybe it simply meant he was a better person, a kinder wolf than she would ever be, and she should get the hell out of Willow Bend before she hurt him again. A whistle sounded from outside, and she rose. Tyler stood in the yard, bathed in moonlight. Wearing only his jeans, his skin gleamed and his eyes were wolf yellow.

Damn, he looked good.

“You okay up there?” The question surprised her. When was the last time someone asked her how she was feeling? Wolves who needed that touchy feely shit needed a protector. She protected herself.

Folding her arms, she leaned against the window frame. “Missing my dad. Remembering. It all kind of sucks.”

A half-smile, a quick flash of teeth, before he answered. “I can imagine.” Not because of his parents, no—because of A.J. He and his brothers had been inseparable. The only times she’d ever seen him apart from his siblings was when he dropped by to deliver a new edict—or decision to make her life easier, or better, or whatever bullshit excuse he came up with to sugarcoat ordering her around.

“Hey.” His voice penetrated her musing. “Still here.”

“I know.” Her wolf rubbed against the inside of her skin. She wanted out, she wanted to go down and play. It had been plenty of time since the fight, and he didn’t smell angry or upset. If anything, she could scent the lake and…the breeze pushed a faint hint of Mason toward her.

He’d spoken to the Willow Bend Alpha. Was that good or bad?

“I have a couple of questions.” He spoke so carefully, as though he were picking and choosing his words with absolute care.

Years of guarding her back against the subtle and not so subtle stiffened her spine. Questions could lead to trouble.
But it’s Tyler. I want him to ask questions. I told him if he wanted answers, he had to ask the questions.
Conditioning warred with instinct, but the desire to make things right between them trumped both. “All right.”

Hands on his hips, he raised his eyebrows. “Can Juliet come down from the tower?”

Shock rippled through her, and she giggled. “Juliet?”

“If the rose fits, pretty wolf. Come on down.”

Another laugh escaped, and she shook her head. Romeo and Juliet sucked, but she appreciated the gesture. It wouldn’t take her long to dash into the bathroom, wash her face, and run a comb through her hair—
he asked you to come down, not out for a date.
Her wolf shifted impatiently within her. Without giving her reasoning much thought, she popped the screen out of the window, then tugged it inside. Climbing out, she dropped to the ground and landed easily.

“Okay. That was hot.” Tyler’s very blasé tone sent another streak of amusement through her.

“I thought it was efficient.” Twilight had given way to true dark, and she needed her wolf’s help to make him out. Despite the lightness of his tone, intensity marked his gaze. When he said nothing, she dusted off her hands and took a couple of steps toward him. A concession and a request. “You had questions?”

He gave a quick shake of his head, and said, “I do. Do you want to go for a run?”

Surprise filtered through her amusement. “A run?” Runs in the desert were limited to nighttime when it was cool and only when well away from the pack. The threat of challenges could come at any time, and one didn’t leave oneself vulnerable, not without a strong circle to protect.

She’d had Justin—for a while, anyway—but he’d proved as fickle as he was feckless in the long run.

“A run, Claire.” Tyler’s eyes narrowed and his tone grew concerned. “Woods, fields, lake—we can go anywhere you want. Just…let our wolves have some time to see each other again.”

So dangerous and so fucking tempting.

“I don’t have permission.” One of the dictates of her probation required she stick close to her parents’ home, not to hunt and to avoid conflict. She hadn’t done so well with Linc earlier, though she’d resisted the urge to do real damage. At the end of the day, he was Ty’s brother and she deserved all the anger he directed at her.

“Permission?” Tyler frowned. The expanse of his chest flexed as he dropped his shoulders. “Oh. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Of course.” No sooner did the words leave her lips than he jogged into the house. Trailing after him, she wiped her hands on her shorts and paused to glance at the star-filled sky. They didn’t have a lot of exterior lights in Willow Bend. One, they didn’t need them except for human packmates and, two, they blocked out the light.

She did miss the stars over Sutter Butte.

“Hey, it’s Ty. Sorry to interrupt...” He made a half-humorous snort, then added, “Claire said she doesn’t have permission to shift and go for a run. Since I didn’t ask earlier—” What had he and Mason spoken about? “Yes, I’ll be going with her.” He paused. “Yes, I will take full responsibility.”

Ty stood in the middle of her parents living room, looking as out of place as ice atop adobe. Raw need twisted through her. He shouldn’t be taking responsibility for her. She owned her own damn actions but, even after all this time, not one ounce of hesitation marked his response.

“I don’t know where we’re running, yet. Okay, we’ll avoid the Wheelhouse and Lotus Woods.”

“Until I’m certain, stay away from the populated areas.” Nothing harsh echoed in Mason’s tone, only the firm ring of command. “Why is she asking to run? Doesn’t she have enough to keep her busy at the house?”

Anger flashed across Ty’s face so swiftly, she barely had time to process the reaction before it smoothed over. “She isn’t asking, I am. I’d like to take her for a run, if that’s all right with you.”

“It is.” Nothing in Mason’s tone betrayed a reaction to the hint of challenge in Ty’s. Dammit, Ty’s protectiveness was something she’d hoped to avoid. The last thing she wanted was trouble for him… Coming home shouldn’t be so damn hard.

Then again, leaving shouldn’t have been so easy.

“Thank you.” A quick smile did nothing to alleviate the coolness in Ty’s words. “We’ll be fine. Thank you.” He disconnected the call and shook his head. “I’m surprised the landline still works.”

To be honest, she had been, too. But the power and gas were also still turned on. “Historian’s house, so I guess the pack took care of the bills.” Or maybe they hadn’t gotten around to shutting things off. The problem of her parents passing with no obvious heirs—and no, she definitely didn’t count—was no one dealt with the utilities or their things. Sliding her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, she rocked back and forth from the balls of her feet to her heels. “You shouldn’t pick a fight with Mason over me.”

“Probably not,” he said with another quick upturn of his lips. “Lots of things I probably shouldn’t do. I want to go for a run with you, and you didn’t say no precisely, just that you didn’t have permission.” He paused. “So, if you want to go, you can.”

Because he fixed it for her. She expected resentment. Ty used to fix things all the time—with teachers, her friends, her parents, even with things that didn’t need fixing. Oddly, she experienced none of her earlier misgivings. Ty wanted to run, he wanted to run with her, and he’d made it possible.

Could she shift without worry? What if he pulled his protective bullshit? Her wolf was as defensive as her—more. The one time a man tried to put his hands on her, she’d damn near taken them off. Not even Justin got further than her breasts. Her wolf wanted no other man. It made choosing to fight easier.

“Claire?” Concern bled through his nonchalant tone. She hadn’t answered him. Her wolf rubbed against the inside of her skin. The allure of running free beckoned, so what was she waiting for?

Trust.
Of course, her wolf trusted Tyler.

“We don’t have to.” Uncertainty mingled with concern in his voice. “I just thought it would be fun. If you want to do something else, you can say so.”

Gripping the hem of her shirt, she dragged it over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra, hated anything which might constrict her shift. T-shirts and shorts were the easiest to shed. Tyler went predator still, and she turned, unwilling to see the disgust in his eyes for the battle scars she wore across her breasts and stomach. Too many fights in too short time frames left her crisscrossed with marks.

They were on her back, too. His harsh indrawn breath told her the moment he’d spotted them. One wolf had managed to top her—he’d dug his claws into her back and sank his teeth into her ruff. She’d damn near torn out her own shoulder dislodging him.

It wasn’t pretty.

Shoving the shorts down, she stepped out of them and closed her eyes. Tyler was behind her. This was too vulnerable a position to be in and her heart pounded. The wolf, however, had no such misgivings. Wild heat raced through her, and she surrendered to the change. Her wolf always knew what to do in these situations.

Agony and ecstasy twined together and she stood on four legs. She could shift faster than most wolves, experience made her swifter. Shaking her head, she gave her whole body a good stretch then turned. Her mate stood scant feet away, his expression unreadable.

But his eyes? They were his wolf’s and she found no trace of disgust in them, only pride. “Hey,” he said, and his voice rumbled with a half-growl. The sound shivered through her, and she bobbed her head. Crouching slowly, Tyler held out his hand. “It’s been a long time, beauty. May I?”

He wanted to pet her. The wolf preened. He still found her beautiful. Pacing forward she rubbed her face against his open palm. Warm masculine laughter washed over her, and she savored the male scent of him, so familiar and so missed. He stroked up to her ear then scratched beneath her chin. When his arm wrapped around her neck, she jerked backward and snapped.

She trusted him, but she wouldn’t be restrained. Jaw set, he nodded. “You’re right. I should shift.”

Backing away from him, she dropped her head. Flicking her ears, she listened for intruders. She didn’t know how long it would take him to shift, but she’d protect him. He reached for the button on his jeans, and she pivoted to face the door. The windows offered a potential threat, but most wolves would use the path of least resistance.

No one would hurt him, since she could give him the time to find his legs.
Then we can run…
Her wolf couldn’t wait to burst free of the house, the ghosts, and the memories. Willow Bend smelled of tree, grass, forest, and lakes.