Silver Wolf Clan Read online

  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 th
ink 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.

  Dean dropped his gaze right along with the others. Interesting. How invigorating, that he outranked the alpha of this pack without so much as a fight about it.

  “Why didn’t you come to us?” Dean asked. “Why didn’t you come to register with the pack when you moved here?”

  “I didn’t know there was a pack,” he said, growling. “I didn’t know there was anyone like me besides the monster that chomped on my arm. I know nothing about this. I can’t control Wolf. I can’t even function anymore! No one ever told me anything. I woke up in the woods, changed by myself, and have been this way since. Never found my werewolf handbook. Sorry.”

  “Alexis, can you fix Mr. Crawford a real meal, please?” Dean asked as he sat across from him at the table. “Okay, so to begin, you have no idea who your maker is. This isn’t normal in our community. We rarely ever turn a human because the instinct to kill prey is too great. If we do decide to, it has to be something we’ve considered for a long time, and then we mentor the new wolf if he makes it through the change. There are rules in our society to keep us under human radar. No man-eating. Animals only unless it’s for the good of the pack. Man-eaters are put down quickly. You’re dangerous because you don’t have control, and that gets people killed. Do you hunt?”

  “I hunted when I was human, but try to stay inside now. When I know I have to Change, I go out in the woods, somewhere remote to avoid killing someone.”

  “That’s not good enough. You’re both human and wolf now. You have to balance good food when you are human with meat hunted and killed as a wolf to satisfy both of you. And you need to eat real food when you’re in this form. No more granola bars. Part of your responsibility to yourself and the safety of others is to remain well fed. It may help with your control as well. You look thin and weak. Nothing is more dangerous than a hungry wolf.”

  Grey stifled the constant growl trying desperately to rattle his throat. Wolf didn’t like to be taught lessons—he liked to teach them.

  Alexis brought over a reheated plate of leftover pot-roast, carrots, potatoes, okra, and gravy. She let her hand linger on his shoulder and Wolf snarled, “Get your hand off me.” She wasn’t his mate. Only his mate would touch him possessively like that.

  The woman backed away slowly, and under the layers of her disappointment, a slight challenge hummed.

  “Sorry,” he said in a softer voice that sounded a little more human.

  Alexis was a pretty girl with long blond hair, blue eyes, a slim figure, and the pout to her lips said she always got her way. He pined for a brunette he’d met once under extreme circumstances, though. Back when life had fallen apart. He yearned for the last person who’d seen him human.

  He forked up the beef and as the rich flavors exploded in his mouth, stifled a groan. It’d been a long time since he’d had a home cooked meal. He wasn’t great in the kitchen, and when hunger pangs hit, there wasn’t much time to plan a meal.

  Other than someone occasionally adjusting their shoe against the carpet or the rustle of fabric as they crossed and uncrossed their arms, silence filled the dining room. As he moved on to the okra, Brent began to gather leftovers on a plate and eventually, when he’d warmed it in the microwave, joined him at the other end of the table. Grey slowed as, one by one, the pack members reheated food and ate around him. The sounds of eating replaced the quietness and, by the time he’d finished the last bite, the soft murmur of conversation surrounded him. Talk of day jobs and an upcoming hunt. Marissa sat glued to her corner, but the rest ate beside him as if he wasn’t a lion among the flock of sheep. He worried less about the color of his eyes or the ready snarl in his throat. It was pleasant just to sit and be. To be around others he didn’t have to hide from. He had no fear of them judging his new crazy, split-personality, dangerous, rabbit-eating self. They were the same. Eating with others of his kind made Wolf happier; still ready to fight, but he was coming to realize wolves weren’t solitary creatures. The tension between his shoulders eased slightly.

  As Grey folded his napkin and placed it carefully over the empty plate in front of him, Dean began again. “Greyson, you’re a dominant, and even if you aren’t in control right now, your wolf was made to lead. To have pack under him. I need to know what your intentions are. Will you issue a challenge for my pack?”

  Rachel rushed to his side. “No! Please, Dean. Don’t do this.”

  “Quiet,” Dean snapped.

  She tensed, waiting. There was no doubt she’d defend her mate if called to, but Dean didn’t seem the type to ask.

  A preternatural silence came over the house as Dean looked expectantly at him with bright, inhuman eyes. The tension of dominance between them was so thick, the other wolves flared their nostrils as if they could smell it.

  He finished chewing his last bite and crossed his arms. The chair creaked noisily as he leaned back and relaxed his legs, drawing out his answer to let them squirm.

  This pack could be ours, Wolf said.

  We’d destroy this pack in a week, Grey argued.

  So?

  So, they seem like nice people.

  Wolf was unconcerned with such sentiments but did, however, concede that he didn’t want the responsibility. Not now, at least.

  “I don’t want your pack, Dean,” Grey said at last. “I just want to be left alone.”

  A subtle sigh of relief filled the room. His dominance might be unquestionably higher than Dean’s, but this pack loved and respected their leader. Let them keep their alpha.

  “Okay, then you will remain a rogue wolf?” Dean asked. “You’ll have our permission to do so without any problem from us unless you threaten to expose our kind. I’d like to offer an invitation for you to join us on occasion, if we can put our dominance issues aside. A wolf needs community. We do a Full Moon Hunt every month, and I would like to mentor you to help you gain control over your wolf. Hopefully, that’ll make it easier for you to work together so you’ll be less of a danger to your neighbors.”

  Grey nodded. He wasn’t ready to shake hands quite yet, but if the alpha could try, so could he. It didn’t matter that he felt like attacking every last one of them. The new strained and tentative alliance signified the beginning of a less tortured existence. He wasn’t alone anymore and suddenly, a great bulk of the weight he’d been dragging lifted.

  He could breathe again.

  Chapter 3

  Six months with Dean and still, Wolf hadn’t given an inch of control. The Dallas pack members had sworn up and down he’d eventually learn to compromise with the beast dwelling inside, but so far, all of their pants were in serious jeopardy of catching on fire. Small things had improved. He growled less at passing strangers. And he didn’t imagine ways to kill people quite as much, so that was a plus. It was still Wolf’s favorite past time by a lot, but Full Moon Hunts satisfied him a little. Half a year in, any improvement deserved a freaking werewolf achievement trophy. These days, his life revolved around Full Moon Hunts. Wolf would let him feel in control of himself sometimes for two whole days afterward.

  The downfall to his new social life? Alexis.

  He pulled the hem of his jeans over the top of his work boot and sighed as he leaned back into his couch. The woman was incorrigible. He knew, because he’d discouraged every attempt she made at molesting him, each time with more fervor than the last. In his old life, he would have been flattered by such an attractive woman’s attentions. She wasn’t interested in him, though, as much as she was drawn to the power Wolf presented. It didn’t take an intelligent man to figure out she saw him as a stepping stone to something more. What, he hadn’t a guess.

  Alexis stopped by his place unexpectedly and often now. He hated it, and Wolf screamed for blood, making it difficult to be polite. A hollow, unexplain
able loneliness crept into his life. Grey hadn’t been this desolate the first six months, so why was he feeling this way after meeting the pack? It didn’t make any sense.

  Wolf only grew more intensely moody with time, but Alexis didn’t seem to care. She came by almost every day just to be rebuffed. Such a baffling woman. Brandon was obviously into her, so why wouldn’t she pester a wolf she actually had a chance with?

  He couldn’t stand her. She was entitled and prissy, like Princess Werewolf out to get what she wanted. Dean admitted he’d rarely seen a wolf more naturally dominant than him, and certain women liked power. He got that. But why couldn’t she just realize that dominance made him half crazy, enough to have to lock himself away from the world for their safety? Dominance didn’t mean power for him. He could just as easily kill her as kiss her. If that wasn’t clear as crystal, the woman lacked common sense.

  The entire week had been an experiment in self-control. Wolf had grown bored and begun to think of new and different ways to kill things. Unsettling to say the least, to dip back into insanity, all of the progress he’d made going out the window. If a man walked home alone from the bar down the street late at night, Wolf would map out where they would chase him and how they would kill him. If they were man-eaters, of course. Wolf needed a hobby.

  At a loud knock on the door, he opened it. Alexis leaned against the frame. She stank of perfume and her bright red lipstick was caked on. Obviously, she’d grown impatient with waiting.

  Flatly, he said, “Go away.”

  She pushed past him into the apartment. At the invasion to his territory, Wolf clawed his way to the surface. She turned around, ignoring his furious gaze, and sauntered over to him with purpose. Her predatory smile oozed with self-confidence. He held himself perfectly still. The she-wolf didn’t know it yet, but she was living on borrowed time.

  “You can’t turn down a female. It’s not in your nature,” she said as she leaned slowly forward and brushed her lips seductively against his.