“Fuck if I know. She didn’t even tell me her name. She’s got my personal info and I’ve got nothin’ but her maddening scent.” Anger and frustration dueled within me.
She was mine. Her scent aroused every part of me. Her aroma had me wanting to strip to nothing and cuddle her close. Her smell made my mouth water. She drove me to inappropriate thoughts and desires. I’d never had a thing for curvy girls, but even that was appealing about her. Everything about her called to my wolf and me.
My wolf made a leap outward. He smelled her. Hell, he could probably taste her scent on his tongue. Wolves are sharp animals with amazing senses.
I pushed my wolf back down, fighting to remain in control. I had to stay in control.
Determination built within me. I would remain in control. I would break her down, but I would remain in control. I had patience. I would make her see everything I was willing to give her, everything I would give her and more.
“Let’s go,” I snapped.
“You gonna walk around with a stick up your ass the rest of the day?” Kris curled his lips in disgust.
“Maybe.” I brushed past him, through the swarms of students pummeling each other to break free from jail.
~*~
“How was school?” he asked the moment I rounded the corner.
I looked up to find my dad, the alpha of our pack, standing outside our high-rise apartment building. He was a ninja, an expert at sneaking up on anyone.
“I’ll catch
ya later, Dom.” Kris breezed past me. “Dan,” he nodded his head to my dad in a gesture of acknowledgement and respect.
My dad made eye contact and dipped his chin
, acknowledging my future beta, before returning his attention to me. “Dom,” he stated my name with authority, implementing my lack of a response to his earlier question.
“I met my mate,” I blurted. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans, twisting anxiously in place. Damn, this sucked.
He studied me for a minute, thoroughly assessing me until I couldn’t take it anymore. Right before I could insert my foot in my mouth, he spoke. “How old is she?”
I shrugged. “
Dunno. She practically ran from me. Actually, she did run from me.”
He pursed his lips. “Did you get her name?”
I shook my head negatively. “It’s-” I sighed. “She’s different. She defies everything a wolf should do.”
He frowned. “Is she human?”
“No. She’s one of us, but-” I clenched my hands into fists. “There’s something off about her. She’s hiding something.”
My dad’s eyes scanned the area; his ears perked and his eyes glowed at the edges. He sensed something or someone. He was the most sensitive wolf I’d met. He was so attuned
. Witnessing his talent made me worry that I would never be the alpha he was.
“We’ll finish this inside,” he said.
I followed him into our apartment. It was sparsely decorated, but the modern design of the space let us get away with it. Truth be told, it could probably use a woman’s touch.
“I could hack the school’s database and pull up all new enrollments,” he offered. My dad was a computer genius. He was an independent consultant that government entities and international corporations fell over to hire. He solely purchased the entire apartment building for our pack to live in, leaving them only utilities and other basics to worry about.
It was tempting, so damn tempting, but I knew it would only make me angrier. The information should come from her. Dang it, she should want to tell me everything.
“You can’t force it. She’ll come around.”
There was compassion in his words, assurance in his tone.
I glanced up at him. I’d always been confident…until I met her. I took a deep breath, expelling in quick. “Yeah. Let’s hope.” I dropped my book bag on the floor by the door and headed to my room.
“Dinner will be ready at six,” he called.
“
‘kay.” I closed my door; I needed some space to work everything out in my head. I needed a damn muzzle too for my wolf. He fervently snacked on my ribs, on the only protection I had around my heart. He wanted me to fall for her because he’d already fallen for her. I knew it in his reaction; in the way he was fighting so damn hard to surface.
Chapter 9
Sophie
My wolf cowered low and deep inside me as I turned the final block to our new home. I smelled him immediately. He was home. I steeled myself as I
covered those final few steps up to the run down building, securing my stack of books a little closer to my chest.
A shady group of guys gathered near the
opposite corner of the building. I caught them eyeing me up and down out of the corner of my eye; tension swam through me, only minimally dissipating when they dismissed me as a potential threat.
The stairs leading up to the building was on
ce a solid slab of poured concrete steps. Now, chunks of the compound were missing and cracks feathered out across several levels as if someone had taken a sledge hammer to them.
I slipped inside the building, shuddering at the dirt and grime that covered the walls. The school
passed for a pristine palace compared to my latest home. I smelled the aroma of smoke, of burnt food, of sweat, of dust, of mold…of rotting. The scent of the building smelled anything but warm and welcoming. Truth be told, the temporary housing we’d secured over the years had never been either warm or welcoming.
I slid my books to one arm to pull my key from my pocket. No sooner had I shoved the metal into the slot on the doorknob than it was jerked from my grasp. His oversized hand gripped all the way around my forearm, burning me as his strength stretched and crushed my
flesh. He yanked me inside, causing me to lose my careful clutch on my books, sending them flying across the floor. I quickly fell to my knees, gathering them as swiftly as possible as not to give him something else to be upset about.
“What the hell took you so long?” he growled.
A tight shudder found its way down my spine. “I…I, um-”
“Oh, shut up,” he snapped, his black eyes not bothering to look my way. He sunk into the second hand sofa that reeked of smoke and cigarette ash. He snatched the beer off the coffee table and lifted it to his lips.
I stood, quivering, waiting. I couldn’t move. I didn’t know where to move. I never did. That was the worst part. It wasn’t his bone crunching punches. It was his unpredictability.
He glared out the window as he took a swig of the
brew. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting an unappealing glow on his face. He’d aged considerably since we left the pack. His wrinkles weren’t the soft endearing lines you found on a senior citizen. His were angry slashes that somehow made his face more steely and dangerous. His brows always dipped inwards, heavy in the center under his constant frown of disapproval. He looked like the bitter, scorned man he was. Worse, his wolf was just as angry and spurned, adding fuel to my father’s fire. Together they were an unstoppable duo, an untouchable powerhouse with the lethality of Hitler.
A growl erupted from him. “What the hell are you doing? Don’t stand there like a fucking twit. I’m hungry. Get in the damn kitchen and make me something.”
I dropped my gaze immediately. I went directly to the small galley kitchen. The Formica countertops had certainly seen better days. The appliances were nearly as old as the peeling cupboards. It didn’t matter that only one burner on the stove worked to my dad though. As long as I could still cook his meals, then it was suitable.
I set
my books on the counter. Above my head I heard stomping before a loud smack ensued. I cringed as the yelling followed. The woman’s Spanish vibrated down through the walls. I felt awful for the one she was attacking, nearly as sorry as I did for myself.
I grabbed a package of ground beef from the fridge. I got to work making a meatloaf and homemade mashed potatoes. Most wolves were meat and potato kind of creatures. We had an affinity for expensive red meat, which obviously wasn’t in my dad’s budget. I did the most with what he gave me. I’d learned to survive on a primarily vegetarian diet. Meat was a rarity for me; something I indulged in only on the sparse occasion we had extra money or my dad left a few crumbs on his plate.
My hunger was rarely satisfied. I’d adjusted though, as I always did.
Thirty minutes later, I sat across from him at the lopsided table in a wobbly chair that felt ready to give under my weight at any second should I make any sharp moves. My dad sat across from me brooding despite shoveling the food into his mouth.
I studied him as inconspicuously as possible. His button up shirt hung open and loose around his collar. His collarbone bone barely blipped up beyond the muscles on his chest and shoulders. The measly excuse for a gym in this godforsaken building was the only reason he took this apartment. Besides being a wolf with a high metabolism, he worked out in the gym regularly. It didn’t curb his anger though. His fury reached beyond the gym where he could split punching bags. I was much more durable and safe to destroy than a gym he might be liable to pay for.
My stomach twisted around itself. The potatoes stuck in my throat. My anxiety slowly climbed, as if sensing his keen gaze falling upon me. I focused my gaze on my plate, forcing a bite of food into my mouth. Scrutiny wasn’t welcome; most attention from my father wasn’t welcome or wanted.
“Didn’t you eat at school?” he scoffed. “Give me that.” He reached across the table and snagged my plate, stealing the only meal I’d touched that day right out from under me. “Go clean up the mess you made in there.”
Keeping my head down, I carried my fork to the sink and began washing the dishes. My stomach rebelled, rumbling in the absence of the food it was greedy for. I knew he heard it; his hearing
was as sensitive as mine. But he ignored it; he ignored so many things. He didn’t see or hear that which he didn’t want to.
I stiffened as his chair scraped across the vinyl floor, my hand halting mid-scrub of the pot I held.
“Hurry up. You’re hands aren’t fat and slow like the rest of you.” His tone was biting; his words a painful jab in my chest I was used to experiencing.
I resumed cleaning the pot. I dried the dishes and stuffed them in the cupboards. The moment the last one was in place, he called for me.
“Yeah?” I asked, struggling to keep my heartbeat slow and steady. Any change in my pulse, any increase in my heartbeat would have him flying towards me accusingly over anything he could conjure in his demented mind.
“Bring me another beer and then get the fuck out of my face. I don’t want to see you again tonight.”
My heart lunged in my chest. Panic seized me. “You want me to go to the room?” The words were like sandpaper on my tongue. Dread snaked through me.
His eyes sliced sideways, a snarl on his lips as they reached me. “Did I fucking stutter? I want you to get the fuck
out of my face.”
I swallowed hard, fighting the tears that stung the edges of my eyes. My wolf whimpered low and deep within me. The conviction in his tone
was nearly as bad as a slap. He didn’t want me. I’d known that for a while now. He didn’t want me, but he didn’t want to get rid of me either. He liked the convenience of me at times. I was useless for the rest of the night to him now. I’d served my purpose today in cooking and cleaning.
I went to my lone suitcase of clothes on the floor in the corner of the living room. I bent to grab a change of clothes. I struggled to stuff a pair of leggings, a top and my only other pair of shoes: ballet flats, into my book bag with my course load.
“Get the fuck out!” he yelled.
My hands shook as I tried to zip my bag. I’d just sealed my bag when he stood, a menacing look in his eyes. I slung one strap of my bag over my shoulder, stumbling forward as I attempted to grab my books, balance my bag and stand all at once.
“I said get the fuck out of my face!”
I raced for the door, his long limbs stalking towards me. My pulse skyrocketed as I fumbled for the doorknob. I jerked the door open and slammed it shut as quickly as possible. The second the door clicked
closed, glass smashed against the other side of it. I heard the liquid of his beer slosh to the floor in a crashing splash. The brew seeped beneath the broken weather strip on the door, pooling around my shoes.
I stepped out of the mess and scurried for the
building’s exit door. I didn’t know where I was going to go. He’d kicked me out a few times before, but not the third night in a new place. I’d usually had time to learn the area to know where I could hide out for a night.
I hugged my books to me as I descended the steps. The same group of guys who’d been there earlier were still standing around, only now they were smoking something I was certain wasn’t legal, right out in the open, as if the legal system couldn’t touch them; like they were as untouchable as my father.
I walked. I kept my head down and just walked. I wasn’t in the safest area in the city. I was a werewolf, but that only gave me a slight edge because I was a weedy wolf.
Often over the years, I’d considered going back to my old pack. It was my fear of rejection that barred me from risking the trip. Packs don’t welcome weak members. While they support wolves during feeble moments, they don’t accept any wolf
who can’t contribute to the pack. And what could I possibly contribute?