I’ve been walking for nearly an hour, not really aiming in any direction but more just walking for the sake of it, when I hear rapid movement coming from my right.
I pause and turn to it because it’s the first sign of either animal or person I’ve spotted so far on my walk. It’s still a fair distance from me when I catch its scent and frown.
Wolf.
Except, the wolf isn’t the boy, nor is it Jackson. At first, I assume it’s a natural wolf, but then some deeper awareness tells me this is no wild wolf.
Only, unlike the boy whose pain triggered my omega gift, this wolf isn’t triggering my gift anything except my need to run.
It’s hunting. And the thing it’s hunting is me.
I know this because there’s no reason for a wolf-any wolf-to be making that much noise. Not unless it wants me to hear it, get scared, and turn and run.
But I don’t because surely, it must know what I am. It must scent that I’m no tourist to be intimidated, but shifter.
I turn toward it, more curious than afraid because the chances of this shifter having no connection to the boy are so remote, I refuse to believe they don’t know each other.
Maybe they want to join Jackson’s pack, but aren’t sure they can trust him yet. That’s an easy enough fix. If I can reassure him that Jackson is a good alpha and maybe even agree to speak to Jackson on his behalf, then I’m happy to do it. At least, while I’m still here in Dawley.
I don’t pick up any human scents on him, which means he’s been a wolf for a long time, and he probably hasn’t been around any humans for even longer.
Finally, the wolf, a mangy-looking thing, bursts through the brush and skids to a halt as if surprised I didn’t run. One glance into its intelligent eyes tells me it isn’t here because it’s looking for an introduction to Jackson. Nope, I’m gazing into the eyes of an enraged shifter.
He snarls, and I cross my arms over my chest and snarl back.
“Yeah, sorry, that doesn’t work on me,” I say.
The wolf blinks.
“Did you come with the boy?” I ask when he does nothing but stare at me.
I stare back and wait for him to either shift or run away.
The wolf does neither.
He lowers his head and snarls as he stalks toward me.
Again, I’m a shifter, so I’m not the least bit intimidated or threatened. “Look, if you’re hungry, I can grab you some food. Hey!”
I jerk my leg away just as he lunges, narrowly avoiding a vicious bite. “Stop that. I am not a threat. So, back off, buddy.”
He growls low in his throat.
There are times that I really wish I could shift in seconds the way an alpha could, and this is proving to be one of them. So, instead of shifting and having the benefit of sharp teeth to fight back, I’m forced to rely on talking, conscious that talking doesn’t always work with lone wolves.
I growl back, which again has no effect.
He lunges at me, and again I get my leg out of the way just in time.
By now, I’m regretting not running when I heard him coming because, for whatever reason, this wolf does not like me at all.
I back up, spinning out of the way of another bite. “Seriously, what the fuck? Can you just leave-” I stop talking and back up faster as he keeps on coming.
Just as I’m wondering how I’m going to extricate myself from this bizarre situation, I don’t have to anymore, because suddenly there’s no earth beneath my feet and I’m falling, or rather rolling back down an incline. Fast, because it’s steep.
Before I can let off little more than a quick scream, I’m hitting the bottom and landing funny enough that something snaps.
Stunned, I lay at the bottom of a hill with a sharp pain shooting up my leg and no desire to want to move again. Luckily, the wolf doesn’t follow me down and rip out my throat because right now, I’m aware that I’m the perfect victim.
“Regan!”
I tilt my head a little to the right because it sounds like Jackson.
“Yeah!” I call back.
“Where are you? Was that you screaming?”
I lay there thinking about how best to tell Jackson that a feral wolf who was eager to chew on my leg chased me down a hill.
Fortunately, before I have to shout out what sounds embarrassing just thinking about while the wolf is no doubt hanging around dying of laughter, Jackson appears at the top of the incline.
He doesn’t hesitate before following me down, though it doesn’t seem as steep watching him walk down it as it felt hurtling backward.
“What happened?” Jackson crouches beside me, concern stamped on his face.
I hesitate. While I could tell him this wolf has nothing to do with the boy, I suspect he’ll believe, just as I did, that they came to Dawley together.
He already thinks the boy is dangerous, that if he learns how aggressive this wolf was, he’ll chase the boy away, or even worse, he’ll think the feral wolf was the boy, but I was just lying to protect him.
“Uh…I fell.”
Jackson frowns. “You were watching where you were going, weren’t you?”
I pause before slowly shaking my head.
His frown deepens. “Regan. You could’ve been seriously hurt. You need to pay attention. Can you get up?”
I hesitate again because my ankle hurts. I could fake that I’m okay, but the snapping I heard earlier warns me that I’d have serious problems climbing the hill/mountain. “I think I hurt my ankle.”
He glances down and his gaze immediately fixes on my right ankle.
I don’t know how he knows which one I’ve hurt until I look down and realize it’s obvious. Given that my right foot is on its side when I’m lying flat on my back is a dead giveaway.
“It’s broken.”
“That makes sense,” I admit.
Jackson lifts his head and pierces me with a stare. “The incline isn’t that steep. How could you have broken your ankle?”
With the pain in my foot increasing, I start getting annoyed at him for being angry at me for something that, technically, isn’t even my fault. “I fell backward down it, okay. Are you happy now?” I snap.
“Why would I be happy about you breaking your ankle?” he growls back.
“Maybe because instead of helping me, you’re just shouting at me!”
Jackson falls silent for a beat.
“I’m not angry at you,” he admits quietly. “I’m angry that you got hurt.”
I blink. “Oh.” I clear my throat. “I was just confused because of the pizza and the sitting me down and the not complaining about me shopping and then the alpha dick.”
For a long moment, Jackson just stares at me because I know I said a lot without taking a breath. I guess he must be working through it at a normal speed.
“Right.” His gaze returns to my ankle. “I’m going to straighten it, or it’ll heal crooked.”
His news is neither unexpected nor is it welcome because, although we shifters heal fast, being a shifter is not all midnight runs as wolves and healing from cuts in under five minutes.
We heal, but if a bone isn’t straight, it will heal bent and that’ll mean having to re-break it, so double the fun. Not. And no painkiller or drug will help ease all that pain because they flat out don’t work on us.
So, all I can do is hold my breath and tense as I watch Jackson reach for my ankle. Thankfully, he doesn’t drag it out with nice but hollow reassurances, which will only delay the inevitable. He just gets it done, which is the important thing,
Of course, after a bitten-out curse, it leaves me with my eyes filled with tears because the only thing worse than being hurt, is being hurt in the same damn place as you were hurt before.
“I’m sorry, Regan,” Jackson says softly, preparing to lift me.
I sniff. “It’s not your fault.”
It’s that damn mangy wolf’s fault.
“You look angry,” Jackson says once he’s scooped me in his arms and I’ve slung an arm over his shoulder.
“I’m angry at myself.”
For not kicking that mangy wolf down the mountain or hill or whatever this thing is that broke my damned ankle.
“Well,” Jackson says, after a glance in my face that tells me he doesn’t believe me. “The bags are gone from the porch, so I’m guessing your little friend has stopped by.”
I rest my head against Jackson’s shoulder since it’s right there, and he’s proven to be surprisingly comfortable for a man made of solid muscle. “Oh, that’s good.”
For a brief second, I’m sure I feel his lips brush against my brow. “Yeah, I thought maybe you two were having a picnic or something in the forest.”
I snort. “Yeah, right, he’s definitely not ready for that. I don’t know what you think I am.”
Jackson falls silent as he cuts a fast pace through the forest. I guess that’s the benefit of being six-plus-plus. It takes no time to get where you need to be.
After only a few minutes, we’re within sight of the rental and that’s when Jackson speaks. “You’ve broken through to a boy who undoubtedly feels safer as a wolf than a boy. In two days, you have him shifting and eating cookies and drinking milk with you in the kitchen. What you are, Regan, is magic.”
I open my mouth to respond to Jackson’s sober words, but no sound emerges.
No one has ever said anything like that to me before, and I don’t know what to do with the quiet awe I heard in his voice because none of it is really me.
I want to tell him that I’m a fraud, that it isn’t me convincing the boy of anything. It’s my gift. It’s because of what I am, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m certain that an omega who actually knows what they’re doing could’ve gotten the boy showered, eating, and sleeping in the rental inside of a day.
I still don’t even know his name.
“Have I done the impossible?”
I refocus on Jackson as he climbs up the porch stairs and find amusement lighting his eyes as he gazes into my face. “What?”
“Silenced you.”
I glare at him. “That is in no way impossible. I know how to be quiet. I can have thoughtful silences just like anyone.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Jackson says, shifting me in his arms so he can grab the door. “My problem with you having them is that when you do, they usually involve you walking into trees or backward down hills, so maybe you could have less of them in the future. You know, for my state of mind.”