Scarred Wolf by Charlene Hartnady

14

Jaxon

I situp in my bed, a silent scream trying to claw its way from my throat. I’m sweating. My bedcovers are a knotted mess around me. My chest is heaving. As always, my hand is grabbing the scar on my chest.

Fuck!

I hate this nightmare.

This time, my father said my name before slashing my chest open. He sounded disappointed. I’m completely fucked in the head.

I let myself fall back on the pillows. I pull in deep breaths until everything in me relaxes and calms. Until I start to feel normal again.

Looking around my room, I note that the pale light of dawn is filtering through my floor-to-ceiling window. I left the blinds open last night. Sometimes the only way I can tolerate life in the city is if I give myself a glimpse of the moon. I look at the clock on my bedside table. Just as I suspected, it’s silly early on a Saturday morning. I’m shocked when I hear a phone ringing from Everleigh’s side of the apartment. Who calls at this time of the goddamn morning, anyhow?

I keep my senses firing on all cylinders. Every minute that she’s around keeps me on high alert. It’s my job, of course. I’m here to do a job. But also…also, my head’s fucking screwed up. Ever since the other night, I’ve been struggling to make sense of whatever the hell is going on here. The way I respond to her. It’s freaking me the fuck out.

I hear a happy little shriek, and then lighthearted laughter. Whoever is calling has made Evie’s day. I feel my dick jerk in response and scowl down at where it’s tenting the bedsheets. Just the sound of her voice makes my body twitch. I don’t like it one bit.

“Oh, you’re such a silly Billy,” she’s chortling. “And yes, I am awake…now!” She laughs again. “Thank you. I love you too and I’m glad you called me at the crack of dawn.”

I feel my jaw clench. Who the fuck is she talking to?

“You wanted to be the first.” She giggles some more, clearly listening to what the other person is saying. “Well, of course I have plans to celebrate. A quarter century is a big deal. So, I’ve taken the day off. And I’m meeting my very best friend for dinner and drinks tonight,” she goes on. “Where are you taking me, Di?”

My chest deflates as I exhale abruptly. She’s making plans with her friend. For a second there… Wait a minute!

Birthday plans! Jesus Christ!

Suddenly, I’m sitting bolt upright, ears straining to catch the rest of the conversation. It’s her 25^th birthday. The pre-wolf has hit her prime.

Within seconds, minutes, hours at the most, she’s going to shift for the first time. I sensed a change when she came home last night. Something was different. I’d tried to tell myself it was because of her mood. She got in from work spitting bullets. Something about the matron at the care center abusing the patients. Maybe I allowed myself to be distracted by how passionate she was about the whole thing. Why should she care? She’s a killer, anyway.

No, she’s not.

Not yet.

But she turns 25 today. And I’m reminded of the sight of the clouds scudding across the moon last night. A sliver away from full.

Crap!

It’s as if the universe has conspired to draw every possible ingredient together to create a creature of infinite power. A potential double alpha who’ll hit her power peak on the eve of the full moon. Even if she isn’t a double alpha, she’s still powerful as fuck. I can’t underestimate this female for even a second, even though I want to. Even though everything in me is screaming that I can trust her.

I can’t!

I swing my legs off the mattress, standing and prowling to the shower just as I hear the padding of her feet through the apartment. She’s moving about, humming under her breath, no doubt plugged into her headphones again. I pause and listen, waiting for the usual thump or fumble as she drops something or trips over her own feet. It’s been a regular occurrence since I’ve been here. The woman seems to struggle with keeping her limbs under control, as if the energy that crackles within her makes it hard for her to coordinate herself. Nothing like that happens today.

I listen as she blends up another of those vile smoothies she likes, then her footsteps retreat, and I gather she’s returned to her room. I hastily get into the shower, wash up, and go to my closet, still listening with half an ear as I pull on sweatpants, a tank top and a pair of sneakers. If the past couple of Saturdays were anything to go by, she’ll be heading out for a run shortly. And I’ll be right behind her. I’m trying to come up with a reason why she shouldn’t go. I’ve been standoffish with her ever since the wine incident, so I doubt she’d buy anything I’m selling. I’ll have to keep a close eye on her, just in case.

* * *

Half an hour later,I’m trailing a good distance behind as Evie Moone lopes effortlessly down a park walkway. It’s early enough for the morning air to plume as she exhales, but the sun’s heat is building, and the beginning of a beautiful Saturday is drawing visitors out to the park. Dog walkers and other joggers are out, and I spot a couple with a small child making their way down to feed the ducks on the lake. By all accounts, it’s going to be an idyllic day.

Aside from the fact that Death sprints through their midst.

I’ll admit, I have to fight down a primal urge of my own as I let my muscles stretch and flex as I run. My wolf loves these moments of freedom. I suck cool air into my lungs, my breathing rhythmic as I keep a steady pace. It once took a while to get a handle on myself in times like this – especially on the day the waxing moon becomes full. As a new wolf, before I’d gained control of my power, I’d sprout fur, feel my claws extend; sometimes I’d shift and break into full flight. I want to do it now. Ache to do it now. Instead, I fix my stare on the swinging ponytail up ahead of me. I’m no longer a new wolf. I’m in complete control. Unlike Evie. This is probably the last chance I’ll have to administer the antidote. I didn’t bring any. I wouldn’t be able to do it. Apparently, I’m a yellow-bellied coward. I push those thoughts away, having to work to keep up, then push it up a notch as she begins to move even faster.

Shit!

I cast a quick look around. More people are gathering on the water’s edge. We pass a couple with a retriever, and I notice as it stops, stiff-legged, hackles rising as Evie flies past. Her feet are barely touching the ground she’s moving so freaking fast.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

I abandon any attempt to maintain space between us, allowing my long strides to close the distance. I can hear her breath now, hoarse and panting. Not human.

Fuck!

She’s shifting. I don’t have to see it to know that it’s happening. She’s not showing any outward signs of distress, but her pace is blistering as she bounds off the paved walkway toward a trail that leads into the trees that surround the lake. It’s quieter there, thank god. Not completely secluded, but it’s still too early for walkers to be exploring the trails. She’s gained ground, her thighs pumping as she surges ahead.

I struggle to keep up. She’s just a flitting shape in the trees now, hurtling toward a clearing that I’ve seen on previous morning runs. The open field with the kids’ playgrounds in it. Fuck it, I wish I could shift and give chase to her properly. I feel powerless in my human form.

But suddenly she stops. Drops so abruptly that for a moment I wonder if she’s stumbled again. And then I hear it. A low, throaty rumbling cry that builds in intensity. Not a cry. A howl. Around the park, a chorus of dogs begins to yip and bark in response.

It’s too late!

My heart is pounding as I break through the branches, bursting through to where Evie is writhing on the ground. I falter, then stand frozen as she twists and arches, fingers clawing in the dirt, then at her own skin as she rakes her nails down her chest to where her body is contorting, flexing, bulging beneath the tight Lycra of her shirt. She tears at it, rips at the fabric and makes another of those bloodcurdling sounds, staring sightlessly up at me as I stand, chest heaving, just a few feet away.

I missed my chance and now I need to kill her. I need to kill her now, before her transformation is complete. It’s probably the last chance I have to get it done alone. She’s vulnerable right this second.

Do it, Skau, just fucking do it!

The eyes staring up at me are still blue, startlingly blue, but no longer human. And they’re staring from above an elongated snout and beneath pricked ears. Evie’s coat is silver, streaked with gray, her mottled pelt blending into the shade of the trees.

She’s huge for a she-wolf and utterly magnificent.

She’s risen to all fours, head slung low between her shoulders as she stares at me, poised. I stand, transfixed by how beautiful she is. Her jaw drops open, and a sound reverberates around me like the rumbling of a powerful engine. The hairs on my skin shiver and stand. When I heave in a breath, I feel an answering rumbling of my own. A guttural growl. But it’s not aggression.

I’m drawn to her. All of me. The hairs on my arms stand to attention. Energy buzzes through me. I feel my wolf moving restlessly inside me. It wants out. It wants her, but not in the way it should.

Evie swings her head, as if surveying the area around her, and then before I have a moment to figure out what to do next, she’s spinning around and galloping through the trees. Toward the clearing where people have now gathered. Young families. Kids kicking a ball. Children on swings. My mind is reeling.

She hasn’t fed yet.

Except for that smoothie,says an asshole voice from the back of my mind. Jesus, are you kidding me? A fucking smoothie?

Without thinking, I bolt after her, amazed at how fast she is. I know I can’t shift too. I have to find it within myself to reach her before she gets to that clearing. She pauses for a moment, raising her head to scent the air. Thank fuck! It’s just the opportunity I need to gain ground and I fling myself blindly through the air, arms outstretched. I land heavily on the ground behind her, scrabbling, grabbing, finally getting a grip on her hindquarters.

Her pelt is like silk. Even in wolf form, she smells amazing. I must be screwed in the head.

Then she’s spinning around, jaws snapping at my face as I tighten my grasp around her hips. I feel teeth scrape against my bicep, then latch on and sink into my shoulder. The bloodthirsty snarling should make my blood run cold, but it shivers through me, making my skin sizzle. I want to groan. I barely register the pain of where those fangs have sunk into my flesh. Because it’s not pain. It makes my heart pound.

I can’t let her go, even though she’s still thrashing and twisting.

“Evie,” I say, my voice low. “Evie, stop.”

There’s no recognition in those eyes. She’s released my shoulder and those teeth are now snapping at my throat, jaws slavering. Even in her infant state, she’s so fucking powerful.

Shit.

If she rips through my windpipe, I’ll need precious minutes to recover. Minutes in which she could race into that clearing and tear someone to pieces. With every ounce of strength I have, I hold her down and twist her over onto her belly. I bear down on her with all my weight, pinning her to the ground, my arms wrapped around her powerful chest and throat. I can feel her heaving beneath me, but the pressure of my forearm gradually cuts off her air supply. Her thrashing grows weaker, and soon she lies still beneath me. Still, and so pliant. So silken.

Fuck! Why am I thinking this way?All I need to do is hold this choke a few minutes longer. She’ll be gone. It will all be over. And I’ll have saved the people here, as well as my pack.

There’s a whimper beneath me. A tiny sound that simultaneously clenches something in my chest. The throat beneath my forearm is no longer fur-clad. The jaws no longer snapping. And I’m lying flat on top of the limp, naked form of Everleigh Moone.

My face is buried in her soft golden hair. It smells like orange blossoms. Cinnamon.

I can’t do it. I just can’t.I release my grip.

She sucks in air, and I realize that I’m pressed against her bare back, my cock hard between the soft cleft of her ass. Her body shudders, and she turns her face, her breath rasping roughly into the dirt and leaves beneath her cheek. I’m so close, my chin grazes against her skin and our breath mingles for a moment. Her face is wet. She’s crying and I feel her body shaking with her sobs.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” I say softly, and she opens her eyes. She’s staring blindly, not seeing me, but I think she’s beginning to recognize my voice.

I lift myself slowly. Reluctantly. My wolf howls in protest at the sight of her still lying on her belly, ass slightly raised. She slides her arms up, hands covering her face, lying naked and vulnerable in the loamy earth. Quit it, Skau. Damn, this is just too fucked up.

“What…?” she whispers hoarsely. Reality is dawning. “W-what is happening to me?” She starts to sit up shakily, then looks down and drops back abruptly onto her side, tucking her knees up and hugging her arms around herself. “Oh, my god!” she’s panting, halfway to a full-blown panic attack.

I take a quick glance around, trying to figure out if there’s anything left of the outfit she was wearing.

Fat chance of that.

“We need to get you out of here,” I say simply. There’s no time for explanations right now. I sweep my gaze over the area around us. “Wait here,” I say, needlessly. Where the hell is she going to go without a scrap of clothing on?

On the field nearby, a young woman has spread out a blanket beside a carriage. She’s scurrying after a small child who’s toddling unsteadily toward the swings. With her attention on the wobbly toddler, I make a quick dash, grab the blanket, and shoot back into the trees where Evie is still curled up in a fetal position, crying softly.

I slide an arm beneath her shoulder, ease her to a sitting position, and wrap the blanket around her unresisting form.

I’m not sure how I’m going to get it right, but somehow, I have to get her back to my car.