Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Grimly, I pushed away from him.
“I mean it, Nick—I’m fine now.” I swiped at my red and swollen eyes, trying to make myself believe it.
“No you’re not. You’re upset and I don’t fuckin’ blame you, darlin’,” he growled, frowning.
His eyebrows, so much darker than his golden brown hair, knit themselves into a deep furrow. He looked so much like he had in high school but he was bigger now—broader through the shoulders and at least three inches taller, too. The stubble on his cheeks was new too—he’d never been able to grow a beard back when we were kids growing up together—not even in his senior year, I remembered.
But I pushed these thoughts again. When someone hurts me once—especially as badly as Nick had hurt me—I don’t give him a second chance to hurt me again.
“Hadn’t we better get going?” I asked dryly trying to sound nonchalant. “After all, you didn’t actually kill McCain’s wolf—he’ll be coming to find me soon if we don’t get away. He probably won’t be too happy if he finds out you’re the one who shot him, either,” I added.
Nick’s frown deepened for a moment. Then he sighed and nodded.
“Yeah, you’re right about that. Okay, let’s go.”
He got in the driver’s side, stowed the shotgun, and started the truck. When the headlights came on, I saw a rutted dirt road that seemed to lead deeper into the forest.
Both of us were silent and I stared straight ahead as the truck jounced over the rough track, thinking of the past, trying to piece together the things I’d tried so hard to forget for the last ten years…
PART 2
PAST HISTORY
FIVE
The first time I ever saw Nick Callahan was the day of my branding.
I was only about ten at the time. I remember it was in a clearing in the woods and there were a lot of people—mostly adults—all crowded around. It was dark outside which I remember thinking was strange, since I was usually in bed by that time.
Mamma was strict about bedtime. She always said a growing body needed sleep as much as food to eat or water to drink or air to breathe and she never let me stay up late. But somehow Daddy had convinced her it was all right. Or else she might be off at her book club—that was most likely. Daddy was supposed to put me to bed on those nights but tonight, instead, he had brought me out here with this big group of people for some reason.
I remember there was a big bonfire in the center of the clearing. It was a cool Autumn night and the heat of the fire felt good against my skin, the flames shooting sparks up to the dark sky where a few stars were visible. Daddy was standing in front of it, his face made ruddy by the firelight, his curly red hair—so much like my own—plastered to his high forehead with sweat.
“We know McCain is coming,” he was telling the other people, which made them all murmur and shift uneasily. “And we all know what he stands for—the sick things he does,” he added, making the murmur grow louder. “But we’re not going to let him take over our pack!” my Daddy announced.
“How you gonna stop ‘im?” a voice shouted from the crowd. “Folks say his wolf’s twice the size of anyone else’s. You’re big in your Fur Form, O’Shea, but you’re not as big as him. How you gonna fight him?”
“With help,” Daddy said calmly. “I want ya’ll to meet Drew Callahan. Drew—come up here.”
He beckoned and a big, burly man with sandy blond hair and a full beard stepped up to stand beside him in the firelight. Standing in the man’s shadow was a boy about my own age or a little older, I thought. He was tall and slim and he had an easy grace about him, moving as silently as a fox slipping through the shadows.
“This is Drew Callahan,” my Daddy announced, nodding at the man. “He’s from California but his family has roots here in Georgia. He’s a strong Alpha who’s been displaced from his pack and he agreed to move here and become co-leader of our pack here in Wolverton.”
“Why’d you bring in an outsider?” a man demanded, sounding belligerent. “Why not pick one of the Wolverton Alphas instead?”
“Now, who could I pick without making every other Alpha in the whole damn pack mad, Hank?” my Daddy demanded, addressing the angry man. “It’s better this way—less infighting at a time when we all need to pull together and be strong.”
“Well if he’s so good, why was he displaced from his home pack?” someone else wanted to know.
Daddy looked at the other man.
“Drew? I’ll let you handle that one.”
“My wife died,” the man with the sandy blond hair and bushy beard said simply. “I had no more kin in California, so I took my son back here to where my grandparents used to live. They left me a cabin to live in—my wife’s medical bills ate up everything else,” he added, a brief look of sadness passing over his face. “Then Patrick and I met and hit it off.” He nodded at my Daddy, who nodded back.