Silver Wolf Clan (2 page)

“Hey, hold up,” a man said softly in the stairwell below.

If he were human, he shouldn’t have been able to hear that, so turning around if the message wasn’t intended for him would’ve looked suspicious. In his attempts to blend into human society, he’d learned a few tricks. Nobody likes a creepy neighbor with supersonic dog hearing.

He climbed the stairs steadily while the men below remained where they were.

Wolf, as he called the interloper living inside him, growled his alarm deep in his gut but as usual he told him to shut the hell up. It never helped. Wolf pushed back right as one of the men below quietly said, “Greyson Crawford, we’d like a minute.”

There was no putting Wolf neatly away after they’d uttered his name and without a doubt, his eyes shone a bright and supernatural golden color. He bolted for his door, scenting a trail that matched the redolence of the men the entire way. On alert, Wolf had picked up on it first, and as Grey opened the door he already knew he’d find their scent in his apartment as well. Not good. The two men were close and the wolf inside him snarled, warning him not to get cornered. The men shut the door behind them.

“My, what big eyes you have,” the shorter of the intruders said through a menacing smile.

At five foot eight and thickly muscled, with dark hair and eyes and a predatory smile, the man would be downright imposing if Grey possessed any fears of the human world anymore. Not much scared the monster snaking in his gut. The taller of the two men turned from the door, eyes glowing a vivid and unnatural blue. Werewolf.

“We need to have a chat,” the taller, blond man said. The light shone off a scar running down the side his face.

If they were going to kill him, fine, but there were questions he wanted answered first.

We’ll kill them and leave nothing but bone
, Wolf spouted.
Weak weak weak. You’re weak if you allow them to live after they’ve stepped foot in our home. Our territory. Turn. Let me out and I’ll kill them for us. I’ll rip their throats out and bleed them, let them go slowly staring at the ceiling of a room they should’ve known better than to enter. I’ll smile at their last pathetic breaths as they run rivers of red across my floor.

As mean and dominant as Grey was quiet and submissive, no doubt, Wolf would do it. What a cruel twist of fate that had thrown their two personalities into the same being.

Under Wolf’s battering, he lost ground and the beast gained control, bolstering Grey’s confidence until he asserted the essence of a truly dominant wolf like a tidal wave upon the intruders. Wolf was having way too much fun with it, but then again, he was always happiest around fighting and chaos. Grey straightened to his full height of six foot three and as he towered over the two approaching men, he challenged the shorter one’s ability to hold his gaze. The man stopped short with a virtually inaudible gasp.

“Wade?” he breathed as Grey descended slowly upon him.

The scar-faced man replied with a quiet, “What the hell?”

Grey reared back and punched the shorter man in the stomach, which knocked the wind out of the guy and flung him backward into the wall. Slumped on the floor, the man tried to drag air into his lungs. Grey turned to Wade. “What’s this about, boys?” he said in a quiet, snarling tone.

Wade lowered his head and exposed his neck, flicked his gaze to the floor somewhere around his feet. “I’m second in the Dallas pack. This is Jason.” He motioned to the gasping man on the floor. “Our alpha has asked us to bring you in. You haven’t followed protocol, and he has questions for you.”

“There’re more of you?” Grey asked.

“Of course,” Wade replied. “Why hasn’t your maker made you aware of this?”

“My maker? You mean the monster that terrorized a family in the woods, killed a girl, bit me, and then ran off? I didn’t feel like a reunion with a psychopath, so I didn’t track him down.”

Wade and the now recovered enforcer exchanged wide eyed looks. “You won’t be harmed, I swear it. Please, come with us so we can figure this out.”

Wolf was satisfied. The honest note in Wade’s voice said he was being truthful. And anyway, if they did intend to hurt him it would be a good excuse for more fighting. Grey grabbed a couple granola bars from the grocery bag he’d dropped on the floor and shoved them in his pocket. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” the shorter, dark haired wolf, Jason, asked. “You can’t eat like that. It’s dangerous. You’re a werewolf, not a pregnant lady. You can’t just snack.”

Not about to take diet advice from some jerk he’d just met, Grey shoved past him and headed down the stairs.

Wade and Jason led him to a black Range Rover parked around the corner. Jason hopped in front with Wade at the wheel, and Grey climbed in back. Over the course of an hour and a half, the pulsing city lights dulled to the more subtle glow of smaller towns. They passed diners and hole in the wall barbeque joints, and the skyward buildings of Dallas faded to quaint houses with matching mailboxes and parks with sprawling playgrounds. And eventually, the small towns became wilderness. Woods stretched along both sides of the road, giving a sense of home and loneliness all at once.

Wade flipped open his cellphone and connected a call on speed dial. “Hey, we have him. He’s a dominant,” he said. The person on the other end paused and asked, “How dominant?” to which Wade replied, “Oh, you’ll see.”

Werewolf hearing was great for listening to both ends of a phone call.

The scar-faced wolf exited the highway and drove for miles before slowing down at a long gravel driveway. Around the entrance,
No Trespassing
and
Violators Will Be Shot
signs dotted the fence line. Homey.

The winding gravel driveway kicked tiny rocks against the undercarriage of the SUV for over a mile.

We could kill them here,
Wolf chattered
. No one would hear them scream. The scar-faced wolf would put up a fight. He’d be a beautiful challenge and when we are finished with them, we’ll take that direction through the woods. It’ll lead us back to the main road before the others in their pack even know we’re here.

Well, at least the monster in his middle was coming up with exit strategies to accompany his murderous ramblings. Finally, a rare instance when it was actually helpful to have an extra personality taking up space in his mind. The upside to schizophrenia. Where he was prone to panicking and hiding, Wolf was logical, methodical, driven by instinct to survive, and if he could put fear into others through intimidation, all the better. Wolf reminded him of Dad.

Wolf pushed against his insides, stretching and filling his head until it was difficult to hear his own logic. The longer they stayed trapped in the confinement of the car, the more impatient Wolf became. It had been six everlasting months and still, he had no control whatsoever. Wolf ran the show and knew it.

Wade glanced in the rearview mirror, brow furrowed.

No doubt, his eyes shifted constantly from blue to gold and back to blue again. Monster eyes had a tendency to put everyone off.

“You okay there, Greyson?” Worry was thick in his voice, and rightly so. A shift in the car wouldn’t be pleasant for any party involved.

“Yeah, I’m fantastic. Just the normal shit with my wolf. You guys know how it is.” He let out a long, feral growl and shook his head to stop it.

Jason turned in his seat. “Uh, no. Your wolf is supposed to be part of you, not arguing with you. It shouldn’t be a fight between you. You should be working together, and understanding one another.” He was quiet for a few minutes then asked, “You said you have no idea who your maker was?”

“No,” Grey growled.

“How long ago were you bitten?” Wade asked

Grey sniffed the air. The tension rolling off the other wolves almost had a taste. Bitter and metallic. “Six months,” he bit out, barely able to avoid gnashing his teeth at the end.

In a wise move, Wade changed the subject to werewolf story time, during which Grey wasn’t required to respond. “Many of the packs are run the same way. The Dallas pack alpha, Dean, owns a large property on the outskirts of the city. The main house is nestled in the center of seven hundred acres of undeveloped country and the borders are surrounded by enough range land that deer, rabbits, squirrel and turkey are plentiful. This is the main food that keeps the pack centralized, fed, and in control of its members. The main house is large enough to squeeze all eight pack members in to sleep comfortably if the occasion ever arises where we need to be in the same place. Members are expected to hold down a job, provide for themselves, and live on their own, but usually after Full Moon Hunts, everyone crashes at the house. Werewolves like community. We are naturally social, and tend to show up at Dean’s house often because it is home base.”

Hold down a job? He couldn’t even buy a cup of coffee without almost biting the cashier. He was dangerous, barely in control of his body, and growled almost constantly. If anyone took the chance to hire an obvious psychopath, it wouldn’t end well for the idiot in human resources who’d made that call. Even if he skirted past the interview process, he wouldn’t last a week chatting cordially by the break room water fountain. Hell, he couldn’t even sit in a car for an hour and a half with two strangers without wanting to break their necks like number two pencils. Maybe it was best he wasn’t part of any pack. The expectations were ridiculous and put every potential human coworker in danger.

Full Moon Hunts sounded interesting though.

As they pulled up to the house, Grey squinted through the eyelash moonlight that filtered over the roofline. The house was unexpected, a sizable Victorian that stuck out as a little piece of Georgia in the middle of Texas forest. It was light blue with white trim and a red door. A wooden swing with cushions swayed gently in the breeze, guarding a sprawling wrap around porch. Downright scenic for a wolf den.

He slid to the gravel drive to meet four pack members gathered outside. One stepped forward in the dim lighting and offered his hand.

“Dean Cooke,” he said. “Welcome to my home.”

The man had short medium brown hair, hazel eyes, a southern drawl, and a quick smile. Under his charm lay dominance so potent, Wolf was all but slobbering to stifle him.

A contender
, Wolf growled with satisfaction.
We can take him.

Grey closed his eyes and fought the unintentional step toward the alpha. The last thing he needed was a brawl with an entire pack of wolves. Although he wouldn’t mind an end to the misery, there had to be less painful ways to go. From the mutter of hushed voices and the soft shuffle of shoes against plush carpet, the rest of the pack waited inside.

Dean invited him in, then sidestepped through the doorway, never exposing his back. Clever wolf.

The house was open, the entryway melting into a large living area. A fireplace decorated the wall, and colorful cloth draped antique frames sat atop the mantle. Knickknacks trimmed tables, shelves, and hung from nails on the walls, giving the home an altogether inviting feel. The smell of a recent meal brought imaginings of what must’ve been on the pack’s dinner menu. Beef slowly cooked in brown gravy, if he wasn’t mistaken.

A tall slim woman, head cocked, watched him from behind Dean’s shoulder, and he tried to smile. From the wide eyed look he received in return, it likely had come out a grimace.

Blue, gold, blue, gold. His knew his eyes changed in quick succession if it left the pack so obviously unsettled. The smell of fear excited Wolf, who pushed harder. Grey clenched his teeth against the strain.

“This is my mate, Rachel,” Dean said, slinging his arm around the slender brunette’s shoulders. She was attractive in an outdoorsy way, with a faded flannel shirt over blue jeans. And even if her eyes lightened the longer she held his gaze, they were kind, unchallenging. Wade and Jason ghosted the outskirts of the pack, and a man Wade introduced as Logan elbowed a dark headed member named Brandon, who’d lifted his lip in a snarl. Brent, an obvious submissive, gave a shy but friendly smile and smartly didn’t offer to shake his hand. He acted as if he might, but then ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair instead. Touching was a human gesture Wolf couldn’t tolerate quite yet without seeing red.

“The girl’s named Marissa. She doesn’t talk much,” Dean said with a quick nod to a child barely to her teenaged years who cowered in the only corner that offered shadows. “She’s our adopted daughter,” he explained, hugging Rachel into his side.

Strawberry blond waves framed Marissa’s young slightly freckled face, and she darted looks this way and that, anywhere but at him. She shook like a leaf in a stiff wind. If Brent was a submissive, Marissa was just plain terrified.

A seemingly unattached woman introduced herself. “I’m Alexis. We saved the best for last,” she purred, staring at him with frank approval. Her hungry crimson smile was unpleasantly maddening. Wolf growled. She wasn’t the one he wanted. Alexis didn’t smell anything like her.

Her.
Morgan. The vision of her hit him like a blow to the gut, and he focused on the sprawling dining table before anyone would see the pathetic heartache in his eyes.

If the pack had been warned of his dominance, their reactions didn’t show it. They filled a wide spectrum, ranging from avoiding eye contact to cowering. Alexis seemed thrilled by this. Foxlike, she slanted glances from person to person, a smirk pulling at the edge of her lips. Her blond hair twitched with the movement. Irritating.

To escape their blanket of emotional turmoil, he skirted the group, careful to avoid any physical contact that would get them maimed, and sat at the table. Weak and starving, he pulled a granola bar from his pocket and started in on it. Everyone stared. He rolled his shoulders but it didn’t relieve the tension building in his back under their scrutiny. “Why am I here?”

Dean was first to respond. “Why do you think you’re here?”

Grey snapped his head to the side so fast, some of the others gasped. He hated games, and Wolf agreed. “Get to the point. Why am I here?” The last part had tapered off in a snarl.