Night Wolves: Volume One

Chapter 3

3

Charlotte spread her hands, gesturing to the bare plot of dirt outlined a few feet behind Boone and Ann’s house. Damon had come to visit, and she thought she’d share her new endeavor. “I realize it looks like nothing yet, but this is my literal fresh start.”

Beside her, Damon nodded. “We all start somewhere. But care to explain?”

“I’ve been trying to find a hobby. Something that could transition into a way to earn my way in the pack.” She led him to the newly sectioned off land where Boone had made quick work of digging a rectangle in the yard. “Gardening came up.”

“Have you done it before?”

“Nope. I don’t know a thing.”

He knelt beside her. “But you want to?”

“It seems fitting. A way to get involved with nature, I guess. Besides, I can grow some of the herbs the pack uses. Easier to have them here than always having to go out searching. And maybe some vegetables? It’s not all planned yet. Lots to learn.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t know the first thing.”

Standing, Charlotte searched for something else to say. It seemed like lately, moments of silence would creep between her and Damon. Every conversation felt too short and led to nothing. There was beauty in the quiet, but also restlessness. Listening to the forest, shy glances to his face, his scent in the air—it all made it harder not to touch him.

Her wolf had more aggressive ideas, of course.

“How long do you think you’ll be free?” she asked.

He stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “No telling. I’d say a few weeks. Everything’s been quiet. Not a lot of news to pass around.”

“I like quiet. It's nice to have you around.” She moved closer to him. “Since you brought me here, I've barely seen you.”

“That’s my life.” Something flickered in his eyes, but as had become standard, his thoughts were unreadable.

“I’ve missed you.”

He smiled softly. “You’re surrounded by people that you know better than me. No reason to miss the roaming wolf.”

“No reason to miss the guy who changed my life?”

“Anyone here would have offered to bring you home.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But I miss your other side too. The man who knew what he wanted.”

“What I want?”

“Yeah. That thing that we all want. That I pretty much always want,” she said lowering her voice.

He shifted his stance and looked away, but a wicked grin crossed his lips. “I told you, that’s not a good idea. I was wild that night, and what we did was risky.”

Flashbacks of him shifting into his lupine form and of riding his massive c**k under the moonlight spilled through her mind, sending goosebumps over her arms. “I like wild.”

Nodding, he moved closer to her. “There's a lot going on for you right now. If your urges are too much, head to town. No man there could resist your smile.” He squinted into the distance. “We can't repeat that night.”

“Haven’t wolves heard of condoms? You don’t have to be lupine. We can both stay human.”

“Even human… Contraceptives don’t work for female wolves, and I don’t know why, but condoms always break. I think it’s the spirits tampering.”

She grumbled playfully. “I know.”

“There are other ways. Aren’t you seeing anyone?”

She’d heard this from a few others, actually. s*x wasn’t a taboo topic to those of age, and it came up often. “Like you said, I’ve got a lot going on. I’d feel better sticking to something familiar.”

Not to mention, Damon was all she wanted. Though they hadn’t discussed it, she thought they’d connected. For a while she thought it was in her blood—that meeting him as the first none male of her species made her hormones race. But now she was surrounded by male lupine her age, most exceedingly handsome and touting that feral air, yet Damon was no less appealing. And seemingly uninterested.

She sobered, desire cooling. “Hey. So, is it true there are Chinese lupine up around where you’ll be headed?”

“Yeah.” There was no hiding the guilty expression on his face. “I was going to tell you.”

“Why would you need time before you could?” she asked.

“I knew you’d want to join me. It’s not a solid option. Besides, I don’t know when I’ll go, and even if I’ll go. Missions change as pack business changes.” He brushed a hand through his hair, leaving dark furrows. “Finding your family is my highest priority, but this mission may not be a lead.”

Tracing the border of the small plot with her boot, she frowned. “It’s no one’s higher priority than mine. When I was growing up I didn’t care. When I first changed, I got curious, but there was nothing to go off. I’d given up hope. Now it’s blossoming again. I can’t say it’s all I think about, because that dream had died, and it’s taking a while to revive.”

“I know,” he said softly.

“No. You can't. This is like a treasure hunt I can't even be a part of. I don't get to look. I have to wait. I have to rely on your and the pack. After growing up relying on only myself, and maybe I wasn't the best at it but—” She huffed and kicked at the dirt. “It is hard for me to sit back,” she said evenly. “If you weren't the one who found me, I couldn't sit back. I trust that you care, for whatever reason, so don't keep things from me. Your progress is all I have.”

Pain marked his expression. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. I don’t know why I even hesitated to tell you.”

“You didn’t want to give me false hope. I get that. But I’m not that fragile. I know I can seem that way. Timid is practically my middle name half the time.”

“Maybe once. Not anymore,” he disagreed.

“That’s the wolf.” She tapped her head. “Finding balance is helping me to understand when to back down, when to hide, and when to fight. Less timid. More cautious, but also more assertive.”

He nodded, and they stood quietly for a moment. The autumn breeze swept around them, and she rubbed absently at her arms.

“How did you know about the Sun pack?” he asked.

“Wyatt mentioned it.”

“Did he have anything to do with the gardening idea?” Damon shrugged out of his jacket and dusted it off.

“Yeah, why?”

He wrapped the large leather coat around her shoulders and smiled crookedly. “His grandmother, Petra, was our herbalist until she passed. No one’s taken up the position since then. It’s not cool enough for most of our younger wolves, I suppose. It’s also something that requires a certain… spirit. Calm. At least, that’s what Petra claimed. She said that energy would be channeled into the earth and into roots, leaves, flowers. An anxious wolf could never make a good medicine.”

“If that’s the case I don’t know why he thinks I could do it.”

“I’m sure he thinks highly of you.”

A hard edge lined his voice, but Charlotte chose to ignore it, lost in consideration. Damon had encouraged her to seek company, so whatever struck a nerve was a curious yet unimportant detail. There was enough on her plate. Matters much larger than male wolf ego.

Now she wondered if she was being urged into shoes too large to fill. Wyatt hadn’t mentioned his grandmother, after all. She knew the pack had lost their herbalist about ten years back, and no one had resumed the position. It wasn’t a necessity, but a high preference to have one.

Before, she thought she would just be filling a hole. Knowing that Wyatt’s grandmother was the previous healer made the situation different.

“Is it a wolf thing to hold back information for no seemingly logical reason?” she asked without thinking.

Damon snorted. “Yes.” He scratched his cheek. “Except there usually is a reason, even if you don’t see it at first. Most of the time, it's to keep things simple. Volunteering details when they aren't requested isn't common practice. It would be considered rude, like you speak too much.”

Wonderful. “You're usually fairly open, depending on the topic.”

“Depending on the topic,” he agreed. “But you’ll notice that the pack will be inconsistent. Those that spend more time with humans tend to share more.”

“That makes sense.”

His hand gestured over the dirt they stood before. “Do you have to wait for it to get warmer?”

“No. According to the book, I can grow some basic herbs in the cold. Mint seems to be the best contender. It’s like the fragrant w**d of the herb world. It’ll be my guinea pig, so to speak.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. I’ve got some research I need to handle.” He patted her shoulder. “Later? Group dinner?”

She nodded. Once a month the pack gathered for a large dinner. She definitely wouldn’t miss it for anything. Damon swaggered off, leaving her to ponder her garden and everything else.

College life was much simpler than this, by a long-shot. Everything and everyone was predictable—which she know realized was thanks to her wolf’s intuition. Joining the Bronze pack was wonderful but had complications.

She hadn’t exaggerated to Damon earlier. Finding her parents was a box she’d closed and buried. Yet meeting the pack, witnessing the love and becoming a part of a bonded community, made her go and dig up that box.

Still, she couldn’t dredge up positive anticipation, not quite. Perhaps because of the guilt that came with it. If she found her family, did that mean a new pack? Would she be leaving Damon who’d discovered her? And Ann and Boone, who’d opened their house to her?

Of all the things Charlotte couldn’t stand, the uncertainty of where she could be by years’ end had her floundering the most.

Charlotte sipped her beer and grimaced. Boone and some of the other dads had made the pack's dinner into a burger competition, and Charlotte was stuffed to the eyelids. She'd wandered away from the food and conversation to sit on a stray picnic table and digest. Rubbing her stomach, she finished her beer and crumpled the can.

“Another round?” a voice asked from behind her.

Looking back, she found Wyatt holding out a bottle. “Oh hey, and yes, thank you.”

His crooked grin and sparkling eyes held contagious joy and she found herself smiling broadly.

She took the offered drink and patted the table she sat on. “Did you overeat too, or was I the only one?”

“You didn’t see me approaching, but I’m fairly certain I waddled,” he said with faux seriousness as he sat.

“I made a pig of myself,” she groaned. “But it wasn't all my choice. Everyone made me try one of their burgers since I'd never had them before. Thank goodness I have the lupine eating capacity… and the lupine metabolism.”

He chuckled and held up his bottle. “Yeah. As much as we have to drink to get buzzed, we’d all be walking around with massive beer bellies.”

“Ooh. I hadn’t even thought of that. Hard to imagine that. Our wolf forms would all have droopy tummies and look like fat huskies,” she added narrowing her eyes in thought before laughing.

He shook his head and drank, looking at the crowd. “Did you try the one stuffed with sausage?”

“Yes. Delicious beyond words. Does that even count as a burger though?”

“My dad would insist yes,” he said slyly.

She peered through the crowd, trying to remember the man who’d given her that particular burger. “I’m still learning names. I guess I’ve met your parents and forgot?”

“Happens. They’re quiet. They always make it to pack gatherings, but it’s genetic to blend in.”

Charlotte smiled and took a sip. Though the pack claimed to be small, she’d yet to memorize every member. “Hey… why didn’t you mention your grandmother was an herbalist?”

He glanced at her for a moment. “Wasn’t trying to pressure you.”

“It’s not pressure. It’s more like…” She frowned and searched for the words. Nothing seemed to fit. Her hands flexed as if grasping. “I’m the least qualified person in the pack. I’m new. I’m young. I’ve missed so much, and I’m struggling to learn and catch up,” she rambled. “So, finding out that your grandmother held this amazing position, it feels like maybe you’re giving me more credit than I’m due. It makes it more than me.”

“Or you sell yourself short,” he reasoned. He placed his hand over hers, cradling her beer bottle to stop her wild gesticulations. “First of all, it doesn’t matter what you’ve missed. You’re here now.”

She stared down at her hand on his. Her heart raced, and for the first time, she noticed how warm he was.

“I think you’re afraid to step up and try to see yourself in a role.” His thumb swept over the back of her hand with small comforting strokes. “But if it’s what you want, maybe that’s why you’ve found us now. It impresses me, how serious you are about this,” he replied.

“It’s not trivial. It’s completely different from anything I know, and it’s got roots in pack history.”

“Exactly. I got you that book because I knew that if you had an interest, you could do it. If not, there’s lots of pretty pictures. I never intended for you to feel coerced,” he said reassuringly, sincerity marking his expression.

“Nothing like that. I feel like an outsider stepping in,” she confessed. “When we first discussed it, I didn't know a thing. Then I spoke to Boone and Ann and a few others and…” She shrugged.

While most lupine were trained to identify and utilize basic herbs, an herbalist knew it all. It wasn't just a skill, it was a unique profession. The herbalist had a vital role in the pack. And to believe that she had the ability to learn and step into that role made her uneasy.

“It's more than I thought it was,” she explained.

“How much do you know about what would be expected of you?”

“Just the basics.”

“There’s a spiritual component too. Did you realize that?”

She shook her head. She recalled Damon saying something about her wolf and spirit, wasn’t sure if that’s what Wyatt meant.

“We all have strengths and weaknesses. When you work with these herbs, it’s the subtlest magic. The healing comes just as much from you as it does from the ingredients and preparation. The task requires a calm spirit. And if you hadn’t noticed, most of us lupine are rowdy on the inside.”

“My wolf is far from rowdy, but I don’t think I’m calm. I think you’re more focused and calm. I’m sort of flighty, if I had to mark it.”

He smirked and shrugged. “You feel that way because you aren’t used to it. See, one of my strengths is reading others. Your wolf has a temperament very close to my grams. Trust me. I felt it the first time I met you. You’re like the calm in a storm—quite rare.”

“Thanks.” Her hand twitched, going to lift her beer to her lips but halting since he still held her.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. After taking a sip, she noticed the furtive glances coming from across the way. In between drinking and chatting, random pack members were seeming to take note of her and Wyatt. Then a not-so-random pair of eyes found them. Damon.

In the fun and chaos of the earlier cooking and eating, she'd forgotten that he'd be around. Strange, since she missed him almost constantly, yet expected since most of the time he wasn't around.

She waved to him, and his chin lifted, but he didn't head over. Instead, he remained speaking to some of the older men, whom she guessed were debating who had the best burger skills. Is one of them his father? Damon never spoke of his parents, but they had to be somewhere. Tucking the thought aside, she looked over at Wyatt.

“Do other tasks draw certain wolf spirits?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

She angled her body toward Wyatt to avoid watching Damon. “Runners. You said they have to be independent, right? Anything else?”

He scratched his cheek and turned towards her. “Not particularly. Being a runner is more related to the man or woman than to the wolf. It's not a calling. It's a choice.”

“So why did you choose to start training now?”

A crooked smile crossed his face and he glanced away. “Envy? I know it’s not the best motivation,” he said quickly. “The stories they tell when they’re home always made me feel like I’m missing too much. I want to see what’s out there. Who’s out there.”

Charlotte nodded. “That makes complete sense to me. I’d think that would be why most got into it.”

“That’s the second time you’ve changed the topic to this, you know.”

“What?” She finished her beer and set it on the table. “I guess it’s just one of the things I don’t know much about.”

“True. But I thought you’d be picking my brain about what you want to do. About your garden or something. Maybe ask me all about the grandmother I kept a secret,” he hinted.

She looked down at her hands and shrugged.

“You’re not asking because you’re trying to figure out a certain runner and why he’s not behaving like you expected?” He glanced across to where Damon had last stood while he spoke, but when he finished he pinned her with a serious stare.

The wind seemed to have gone stagnant.

She couldn't tell the motive behind Wyatt's question, but she told the truth. “Partially, yes.” Her shoulders slumped, and she looked away. “I know it's bordering on childish. But the way men act, and the way lupine males act… there's plenty of overlap but there are subtle differences. I feel like I'm translating a new language with the wrong key sometimes.”

Wyatt’s brow arched. “You think that perhaps someone acting disinterested is just a part of their lupine sociology? Blended with the complications of being a runner?”

She winced at how ridiculous it sounded. Wyatt saw right through her curiosity for what it was. Delusion. Maybe their connection was all in her head. They’d had an ordinary one-night stand. Maybe everything was over, and she was lingering. No matter what it was, she’d avoided thinking of it realistically.

“Hey,” Wyatt said softly. He leaned forward, his voice changing to one of consoling. “That came out wrong. I mean… If you need answers, go to the source.”

She agreed but didn't say anything for a while. “What if this doesn't work out? The garden, I mean. I may want to do this, but that doesn't mean I'll succeed. Then what?”

“I can’t tell you what’s best for you,” Wyatt said seriously. “None of us can. And while that may sound daunting, realize it means your possibilities are only limited by you, not us. Makes me glad we don’t have the typical pack structure, to be honest.”

She leaned back, always glad to change the topic towards learning more about her newly found heritage. “You mean the elder council and alpha aren't typical?”

“No, those are. I mean… Reid and the council don’t dictate every detail of our lives. In some packs, jobs are assigned, or they arrange couples to mate. They meet regularly and just decide how to adjust pack life to whatever they feel is relevant. They lean on traditions just because they are tradition, and not because they fulfill purpose. Our pack is more spiritual. We let the ancestors guide us, but we don’t argue and use politics to interpret the ways.”

Charlotte furrowed her brow and took this in. Arranged marriages in a wolf pack? “How did the Bronze pack get this way, then?”

“Time and rebellion. Our pack’s been in the States since the beginning, but it had to split from a larger pack early on. New land, new adaptations. Made sense. But very few agreed and wanted to honor the old ways, even if those ways had lost meaning.”

“I'm sure it could be argued both ways,” she said curiously. “Not that I can really say much about it, being one that doesn't know any old ways in the first place.”

Wyatt leaned back on his hands. “There will always be traditions we need, and ones we don’t. The council ponders them. But for the most part, we follow the intent of ritual. We’ve kept our pack healthy, safe, and happy. We aren’t as large as some packs, but then again, other packs have disappeared completely.”

“I wouldn’t stay with a pack that wanted to pick my mate,” Charlotte reasoned.

“You say that, but you weren’t raised believing it had to be that way.”

“Every generation has independent thinkers. Even if it’s done a certain way every year for a hundred years, someone is going to ask why, and challenge it. That’s how people are.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s how people are. Wolves… not so much. Defying your alpha is how you get banished.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Most alphas aren’t tyrants—at least I’d assume. It’s out of my area of expertise. I just meant that there’s a right way and a wrong way to challenge pack law.”

She shook her head. “I’m glad I’m in this pack, then.”

“That’s something we agree on.”

Charlotte looked around while she considered those traditions. It never occurred to her that there would be things about being lupine that would take the joy out of her new life. She’d loved the rituals of the Bronze pack. But someday will I learn something I can’t handle? The pack thinned out while they sat quietly. It was getting late.

“I’m going to head home. Can I walk you back to your place?” he asked. “I know there’s no danger, but it’s just what friends do, right?”

She hopped off the bench and stretched. “Yeah. I guess my food has settled enough that I can sleep.”

While they walked the five minutes to Boone and Ann’s cabin, they spoke about Charlotte’s future garden. Wyatt knew where to get seeds, and offered to give her a ride whenever she was ready. They arrived at the house before she’d agreed, not that she had an issue.

“I’m just not sure I should pull you from your training at this point. You may be going off into the wild any moment,” she reasoned.

“It’s sweet that you care, but one day won’t ruin everything. It won’t take more than a few hours to get there and back. I can push my work out to the evening. Just say the word.”

She was ready to argue, but he leaned in for a kiss and she froze. His lips pressed against hers, and suddenly the sound of his racing heart was all she heard. The heat of his nearness all she felt. She leaned into him, not only accepting his kiss but demanding more.

His strong arms wrapped around her, his hand steadying her spine as if she were a delicate snowflake or a dream ready to fall apart. He tasted like comfort, if comfort could have such a value. After what seemed like forever he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

“Goodnight, Charlotte.”

She blinked. His eyes were golden orbs, glowing in the night.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

He released her from his hold and left while she stared. If they were both human, she would have taken that kiss as an invitation for more. As a lupine, she wasn't sure what to do. Her blood raced. Her wolf whimpered, unhappy. Unsatisfied or upset?

She glanced at the sky and found it overcast. Not that it held any answers regardless. Refusing to analyze it any further, she quietly entered the house and tiptoed to her room. I shouldn’t have kissed him. The reason wasn’t clear, but it felt like a mistake.

She sat in the dark, emotions battling and logic on vacation.