Untamed Wolf (11 page)

“We’ll be fine,” he repeated, then caressed the spot he’d pinched. “Are you warm enough?”

More than she could begin to describe. He’d fed her, made love to her, flipped on the generator so she could shower and then he’d made love to her in the shower. “I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are.” Even the nibbling, unsettled sensation in her soul didn’t bother her as much and her wolf…she could almost feel her wolf flop on her side, and the contented thump of her tail.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Mama rose from the nest of her blankets, pup in her mouth and gave them a look. “Absolutely.”

“She wants out again.”

Dylan nudged her away from the window before he opened the door. Mama trotted out into the snow, and he closed it behind her. Chrystal sighed as the wolf vanished towards the woods.

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“Then she’s found a place for herself. She’s not a dog, Chrystal. She’s a mother and a guest, and when she’s ready she’ll move on.” He wrapped his hand around her nape and massaged the muscles. “Want to help me clean up while we talk?”

“Sure…” The blankets smelled of them. She had to fight the urge to press them to her nose and savor the memories instead of folding them. Dylan was not a still person. He always found something to do, even trapped in their little three-room cabin—three rooms because though the cabin had a bedroom, they hadn’t used it. Not when they were running on a generator and the fire provided the most stable source of warmth.

“Questions, baby girl?” He’d grabbed a broom and swept away ashes and dust from around the fire mantle, then the debris gathered near the door.

Torn between watching him, and tackling him, she considered the questions she had. Hadn’t his sister called him, “Rosanov?”

Dylan chuckled. “Ahh, my father is Russian. My mother met him while on a tour of Eastern Europe. She seduced her mate, then brought him home. His last name was Rosanov, but at the time Russian names weren’t held in high regard here.”

“Communism?” History had been one of her favorite subjects.

“More or less, and Dad liked the idea of Americanizing his name because his family was going to be American, thus we are Royces, not Rosanovs or in my sister’s case Rosanova. However, from time to time, he forgets and when he is angry, his Russian comes to the fore and…”

“That’s so cool.”

His snort made her grin. “You’ve never seen him angry. Sometimes I think he should have been a bear rather than a wolf. But what can you do?”

Curiosity threaded through her. “
Are
there bears?”

“Never met one, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” He sacked the ashes and trash, then vanished outside. By the time he’d returned, she’d hauled one of the chairs closer to the fire and added another log. “I pulled some more wood closer and onto the porch so it will start drying.” They had enough to keep the fire going the rest of the day already filling the pans on either side of the fireplace. “Soup?”

“I’m going to bust if you keep feeding me.” She had to have gained five pounds, if not more, from the sheer volume of food he kept offering her.

“I plan for you to burn a lot more calories, pretty girl. So I want to make sure you’ve got them to burn.” He dropped a kiss on her lips as he passed by her to head into the kitchen. “Is it my turn to ask a question?”

Her thighs clamped together at the dark promise in his words, and she sighed at the need beginning to ratchet in her belly. Like when her wolf wanted out, only different. The way he kept eliciting a response from her taught her that much at least. “Sure.”

In the kitchen, he opened several cans one at a time, then poured them into a large pot. They had the generator on, which meant he used the stove. The refrigerator seemed to maintain the cooler temperatures, and he’d moved some of the frozen goods out into coolers and set them in the snow.

“Or maybe it’s less about feeding me and more about you liking to cook,” she said, peering into the pot. He’d added several vegetables, then broth, before pulling out chicken to cut.

“Maybe it’s both.” With a nod, he gestured to the other cutting board “You know how to cut potatoes?”

“I do.”

“Then get to work.” He winked.

“I’ll even peel them.”

With a mock shudder, he gave her a winning smile. “Don’t tease me. I hate peeling.” Since Chrystal didn’t, she grabbed several potatoes out of the bin and found a peeler in the drawer he pointed her towards. Once she set to work on the vegetables, Dylan asked, “Are you ready to tell me about your mom yet?”

Her stomach did a little summersault.

“You don’t have to, but I’m curious.”

How did he always…?
“Will you teach me how to do that?”

He paused and glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

“Tell what someone is feeling from their scent.” It didn’t seem fair how he always knew, but she didn’t.

“We’ll train your nose, pretty girl, don’t worry. I’d be happy to teach you that—and hunting, and shifting. We’ll go over all of it.” His promise resonated with sincerity.

Pleased, she focused on peeling the potatoes. “My mother’s name was—is— Dallas. She’s a Lone Wolf. Twenty-four years ago, she had an affair with another Lone Wolf. His name was Carlo. I think he was Peruvian. Maybe not. I only saw one photo of him. Dallas didn’t like to talk about him much.”

“You call her by her name?” No judgment lingered in his quiet inquiry.

“She didn’t want me to get used to calling her mom. She was my mother, and I did call her Mom for a while, but when I was old enough, she told me it was important to call her Dallas. I try to do what she asked. Anyway, they had an affair and she got pregnant, and I was born. Dallas said Carlo helped her hide the pregnancy from the Enforcers.” A shiver raced down her spine as a sudden icy chill of apprehension fisted her insides. “The Enforcers would have killed them, and they did kill Carlo eventually.”

His sharp inhale betrayed his rush of sympathy. Finding a small smile, she glanced at him. “I didn’t know Carlo. I’m sad that he died, but I never knew him. It’s hard to miss someone you don’t know. Dallas said he was a funny wolf. He liked art and he made a living doing sketches in parks. I think it’s where I get my artistic side. Dallas isn’t even a little bit artistic. She’s a lot more practical. She likes tangible things. Anyway…” Because, why stay on the maudlin part of the story? “Dallas hated her pack. She never put it that way specifically. She just said they weren’t her home anymore. I don’t know if she had family there, or relatives, and she never told me their name. From as long ago as I can remember, she drilled three rules into me. Three rules, Chrystal. Remember your name, because you can shatter, and the Enforcers will destroy you. Always remember these three rules: don’t trust the packs—don’t tell anyone you’re wolf, and don’t let your wolf get away.”

On her last potato, she stared at the cream colored vegetable before reaching for a knife.

“The Enforcers scared her, a lot. We moved so many times when I was little, I don’t even know where I was born. When it was time for me to go to school, she would place me with a family each year in a different district.”

Chop.

“She took work as a domestic for wealthy families all over the west coast. As long as we went to different school districts and different cities.”
Chop
. “In the summertime, she would take me to the state parks in Wyoming and Montana.” Those were her favorite memories. “I could shift and run there, but not during the school year. Always remember, don’t let the wolf out.”

Chop.

“Until I was fourteen, then Dallas rented this gatehouse from the Piersons. They were a really nice family. She told them she traveled a lot, but I was really responsible. That she would be away, but I would be catching the bus at the end of their drive. The gatehouse was pretty far back on their property, so unless I went to the main house or they came to me, I never saw them.”

“What happened to Dallas?”

Chop
.

“I don’t know.” The words hung there as she dropped the cut potatoes into a bowl. “A check came every month for my rent. I had a bankcard and there was always money in the account for food. But the letters never had any return addresses and the postal stamps came from everywhere. The last one was Canada, I think.”

Slice.

“So you spent the next four years on your own?” Dislike thickened in Dylan’s voice. His blade slammed into the cutting board. “Went through your first heat on your own? Grew up and graduated high school
on your own
?”

Chrystal wanted to talk about the next part even less than she did Dallas. Chopping through two more potatoes, she fought her unease. Her wolf rubbed against her insides as though to comfort, and she froze. The wolf was right there, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost see her a step away. A soft whine escaped, then Dylan’s arms were around her.

“Hey,” he whispered against her hair, tugging her closer until he practically enveloped her. The same comfort her wolf offered, only sturdier in his arms. “You don’t have to tell me…”

“I do…it’s just…this part scares me sometimes when I remember it. And my wolf was…she rubbed against me. I knew she was there, and she felt bad for how I felt. She wanted to make it better.” Had her wolf always been there? Had she simply stayed silent because Chrystal used to chant the mantra of stay hidden, stay safe…? So many questions and no answers.

“I can imagine it was scary without your mother.” His stern voice gentled. No, Dallas had been pulling away from her for years. It had taken her the last few days to realize what her mother had done. She’d eased away from Chrystal, withdrawing further and further until…she walked away. Chrystal wanted to believe she did it to lure the Enforcers off Chrystal’s trail. She never let Chrystal flounder, never withdrew her financial support, though she’d been told the account had been closed after…

“Julian found me.” Even his name struck her as terrifying, but she concentrated on Dylan’s scent and his nearness. Around her, his arms stiffened.

“When?” One word fired like a bullet.

“Beginning of my senior year.” She’d come home on the bus. While she could forge a lot of notes, she hadn’t been able to get a driver’s license without her parent in attendance. The bus was fine, and if she missed it, she was capable of walking three miles to get home. “I came home from school, and I was almost at my front door before I realized why it smelled funny.” Her stupid, untrained nose. Despite Dylan’s warmth, she shuddered at the memory of the fear sweeping through her. “He was inside. The door wasn’t open, but I knew he was there. I didn’t know who he was…so I ran.”

Big mistake.

Huge.

A low vibration shook her, and it took her a moment to realize it was Dylan. His near sub-vocal growl reverberated in his chest. Planting her palm against him, she eased away to meet his gaze. “He didn’t hurt me.”

Eyes narrowing, his nostrils flared. “That’s a lie.”

“Not—a lie exactly. He scared the hell out of me. Besides Dallas, I’d never met another wolf at that point. I had no idea how fast he was. I didn’t make it twenty yards before he was in front of me. He glared, snarled and groused—and bullied me into telling him who I was. His reaction was a lot like yours.”

Dylan’s growl ceased immediately. For a brief moment, a wounded look passed through his eyes. “I didn’t…”

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “You showed up at the waterfall, jerked me back up, then snarled and groused about me trespassing?”
Who was fooling who, here?

When his lips compressed and a muscle began to twitch in his jaw, she worried she’d pushed him too far. But, dammit, he’d done the same damn thing to her.

He nodded slowly and his expression relaxed. “Fair enough. I did do all of those things. I reacted badly. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I thought I was trespassing.” The response confused her. “Wasn’t that a bad thing?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “No. We’ll figure it out later. What the hell did he do?”

“I need to finish cutting the potatoes.”

“Chrystal.” One growled name, and she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“I don’t mind telling you… Well, I kind of do, but it seems to be upsetting you more than me.” She didn’t like him upset. Or hurting. Or anything less than the playful wolf he’d been since they’d spent the night in each other’s arms.

After one too-long expressionless heartbeat, he blew out a breath, turned her around, then withdrew a step and returned to his chicken cutting. Every move he made demonstrated a wild amount of control. It also seemed utterly at odds with his—
oh…he’s upset, but he’s calming down because of what I said.
Yet, he couldn’t calm all the way. Excitement at reading his scent warred with the old feelings from her day of discovery.

He tapped his knife against the cutting board three times, then stared at her.

Oh
. Her story.

“Sorry, I just realized I could tell you were still upset from your scent…”

“Good job, baby. Now make me feel better by not leaving me hanging.”

The snappy comeback did what his earlier comfort hadn’t—she laughed. Pressing her fist to her mouth, she tried to hold back the giggles, but when his dimples appeared she couldn’t.

The strain around his eyes eased, and his smile softened his expression. “There she is.”

“Yes.” Pleased with both of them, she resumed chopping potatoes. “Anyway, Julian demanded to know my story, my pack—and I found out he thought I was a runaway. One who hadn’t been reported to the Enforcers. I had a choice to make. I could play along and tell him what he thought he wanted to hear and maybe he could point me to some wolves or be honest…”

“Babe, you really had one option.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m apparently a terrible liar.” The smartass remark earned her another smile and a slap on the ass. She didn’t know which one she enjoyed more. Potatoes finished, she emptied the rest into the bowl before passing it to Dylan. He added the potatoes to the chicken and emptied them all into the big pot. “Anyway, I told him the truth and he smiled at me in this…cold, but not really cruel way and said then I had a bigger choice to make because I was sixteen and I’d never been in a pack.”