Chapter Seven

The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.

—Geoffrey Chaucer

 

THOMAS NEEDED BETTER gifts. Ryan had swept the dead butterfly and then the perfect oak leaf off the bottom step.

That was fine.

Thomas had a pile of things he’d collected, deciding to leave a token of his love each day for Ryan to discover. Thomas glanced at the turtle shell. Surely Ryan would remember the one they had watched through the fence at juvie. They’d talked about how cool it was to carry your home around with you and have the freedom to go anywhere you ever wanted. Thomas ogled Ryan as he carried the axe like some badass mountain man over his shoulder and headed down to the lake. Thomas took the path and made his way to a new vantage point. He froze in his tracks and narrowed his eyes at Ryan.

That ass.

Ryan grinned wide and whistled like he was calling a dog. Then, he clicked. Thomas huffed and lay down to observe this show. Ryan clearly knew he was there, had called him even.

Ryan looked up to the area where Wolf hid—searching for him.

This made Thomas very happy, so he got comfortable, crossing his front paws. His tail thumped, and he tucked it in. Ryan stripped down naked with a smile on his face. Whatever it took, Thomas decided—as long as it made Ryan happy. Because he was smiling. And he was naked, which made both Thomas and Wolf very happy indeed.

I told you you’d like him, Thomas gloated to Wolf.

Do like. Wolf hummed his agreement.

What happened next was something Thomas could laugh about until the end of his days. Ryan yanked on that old canoe, then screamed and ran from the snake he’d discovered. Thomas was rather enjoying his new job, just keeping tabs on Ryan. He could do it for hours and did.

*

IT HAD BEEN a good day, and when Thomas had howled a goodnight for Ryan, he’d howled back a human sound meant to be a howl—and then he laughed. And still, Thomas had not smelled fear.

With Ryan tucked away safely, Thomas headed to the den. He liked to call it “the Den” because it irritated nearly everyone.

“Foxes have dens, not Wolves,” Adler had admonished.

It was semantics. Thomas had ticked off on his fingers: “Hole in the earth, babies are born there, keeps us alive through the winter, safe place. Sorry, Adler, it’s a den—all day long.”

But now, Thomas listened as the council tried to convince him to wait and see if Ryan would bring more humans, the authorities, or trouble. They were worried about his being an escapee, the attention that might bring, and the potential exposure of the pack to the outside world. And on and on it went. Thomas gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides as he breathed hotly through his nose. They were so scared, always hiding away from everything, away from the rest of the world.

Oh, he understood it, but in the pack, a council decree was law. They didn’t get to go back on their word or get to pick and choose. They didn’t get to change their mind because Ryan had actually escaped before he was sixty, and they had to deal with something they never imagined would happen. Thomas presented his decree and read it to the very council that had written it.

“Don’t you think it’s ironic he just happened to find the one guy who owns the cabin in the middle of our territory? That he is being allowed to stay where I am?” Thomas glared at the council. “Do you really want to mess with fate?”

That night at dinner, Thomas noticed that several of his packmates turned their heads or wouldn’t look at him. No one else sat with him that evening, and Penn, his closest friend, was out on patrol. No conversations were struck, and no one even congratulated him on finally finding his mate again. Thomas looked around, and then—he got pissed.

He’d had more than enough time, years, to learn these rules: don’t talk back or disagree with the council, don’t bring change into their seemingly perfect world. And because they were all linked as a pack, everyone knew what everyone else was thinking for the most part.

“I see how it is,” Thomas said loudly enough for them all to hear, and then he growled and left the hall.

Thomas didn’t stay at the packhouse that night, but he should have. Back at the cabin, he cleared out a spot to sleep, turned, and got comfortable. He lay down to watch, guard, and rest. Thomas should have stayed home. When Tristan Steele arrived late in the night in the truck, the greeting and smile Ryan gave the other man tore at Thomas’s already injured feelings.

Thomas listened as Ryan tried to explain about the snake. His speech was all wrong, and Thomas tuned in, trying to identify if there had been an injury—why Ryan sounded as he did. He missed words and used awkward speech patterns as if he hadn’t talked in years. And then it hit Thomas. That was precisely what had happened to Ryan. Thomas closed his eyes and whined. Ryan had always been more than typically quiet. But this was something different. The more he listened to Ryan struggle, the more he knew it was true. Except…he hadn’t struggled when he yelled at Thomas. This eased his fur—a little.

Thomas popped his head up again, and he sat up at the sound of his name, tail thumping in the dirt. Ryan was talking about him, about how much Thomas would have laughed at him over the snake.

But then Thomas felt the wave of horrible sadness blanket the forest around the cabin. Human emotions were so powerful. Some so weighted they made the forest droop as if there had just been a heavy rain. Leaves and pine boughs listed downward. Everything seemed to hold its breath until the burden lifted. Nature held a special connection with some humans, her chosen children.

They were talking about Wolves now. Ryan’s bright idea to piss outside amused Thomas, and he smiled even harder at Ryan confirming to Tristan Steele that he had seen the one. Again, Thomas sensed no fear in the statement. Ryan was not afraid of him.

Mate never afraid of true mate, Wolf reminded Thomas now.

And Thomas recalled his lessons, what the elders and his father had taught him about the ways of the Wolf. That Penn had secretly told him about what his mother had said about mates: No mate would ever fear their true mate. It was instinct. And Thomas wondered if this was why Ryan didn’t show any fear of him. If that theory had ever been tested, it certainly wasn’t advertised or promoted in his pack. Thomas would have to ask Penn if he knew any pack secrets about humans—other than Thomas’s own father breaking pack law years ago. Their pack was older than old-school. Other packs in the world were, too, but many lived far differently from the Mitchum pack. But one rule held true for all packs; they didn’t mix with humans. Thomas was surprised the Mitchum pack’s archives were actually written by hand and not chiseled on stone tablets.

Ryan and Tristan unloaded supplies back and forth in the night, and Thomas was happy when Tristan said he couldn’t return for a month. Then Thomas felt guilty for being happy when Ryan said he had no one.

Thomas curled up tight and tucked in his tail to sleep for the night. He rarely slept as Wolf but was too irritated with his pack to go home. And he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Ryan, even if he had to stay at a distance.

For now, Wolf grumbled.

The following day, Thomas monitored and listened as the two men sat on the porch and talked about life at the cabin and the supplies Ryan would need to survive the winter. Thomas was happy to hear Ryan had long-term plans to stay. This would give Thomas the time he needed to get Ryan to like him as Wolf. While Tristan Steele’s warnings about winter were absolutely true, Thomas didn’t worry about Ryan’s survival through brutal winters.

If there were two things Thomas was sure of, the first was that Ryan worked harder than anyone he’d ever known. He took things very seriously. And second, Thomas would never let Ryan be cold or go hungry. He was Wolf; it’s what they did. If he had to hunt all winter and leave food for Ryan, he would, though he didn’t think that would be the case.

Thomas followed along as Ryan wandered and explored, hanging little flags in trees and marking his way. Thomas approved of this idea. It would certainly make it easier to track him if he kept to the same trails. Granted, Thomas could always hunt him down now, but regular paths made life a little simpler.

That evening, several patrol Wolves came to him and said they would study the human and Thomas could return home.

Alpha Mitchum and the council have ordered your return to the packhouse, stated Luke Pace, a Wolf very few would ever refuse or want to tangle with. And he said it in a way that made it clear he was repeating an order he’d been given. Thomas didn’t usually dislike Luke, although they’d never become what Thomas would call close friends. Luke had too much on his plate to worry over friendships or doing things with others in his free time.

Come back with me, Penn encouraged Thomas. Penn, kind and good-hearted, always seemed to be the sweet soul able to solve interpersonal problems when they arose. He and Thomas had spent a lot of time together over the years. Thomas didn’t miss that the council or his father had chosen to send Penn. If Thomas ever claimed a best friend, here he stood now. That move by their leaders was evident, and Thomas sensed from Penn that he realized it, too, as Penn looked down at his paws.

I’m not leaving my mate, Thomas growled, refusing this move by the council and standing his ground at the Steele border.

Things got a little scrappy as Luke gave the order, and Penn backed off with his tail tucked and whining. Two of the council’s muscle moved in, baring their teeth at Thomas while the others stepped back for the fight.

Thomas wanted to laugh and cry at the same time as he lifted his lip and displayed his long canines back at them. Thomas was stronger, with the Alpha’s blood pumping through his veins. He also fought to defend his mate, and no other Wolf in their right mind wanted to tangle with that situation. It almost always resulted in death.

Wolf would kill anyone or anything who tried to harm his mate. And Thomas made it very clear no one would hurt Ryan as his teeth sank into an opponent’s flank. The other rounded on him, trying to take out his back leg. Sharp teeth sank in deep, but as Thomas let loose his hold on the first to turn and fight the other, Penn charged the one at his leg, snapping and growling at the whole group.

We’ll tell the council your response, Penn panted, glaring at his fellow Wolves. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Wasn’t it? Luke asked.

Penn shook his head. We don’t attack each other, and we don’t fight with Thomas. He seethed at the two council guards. He’s the Alpha’s son. What were you thinking?

They backed off, retreating at Penn’s words, and Penn turned to Thomas and inspected his wounds.

I’ll talk to them; stay with your mate, Penn said.

Thomas nodded once and returned, injured, to his post to guard Ryan. Blood seeped onto the fall leaves, and he licked his wounds until they began to heal. Thomas contented himself with supervising Ryan’s safety, sensing he worked inside the cabin to make it a home, which also distracted him from the pain. Thomas kept an alert ear out for any further trouble or Wolves approaching as Ryan continued talking to himself as if he were practicing. And Thomas slept in the woods once again.

*

WHEN THOMAS WOKE, Ryan was building a tall fence to keep things—like him—out. He rolled over on his back and let out a laugh. When Ryan heard him, he crouched low and peeked at Ryan. And then he spoke to him.

“I see you,” Ryan said.

Thomas was happy all day until Ryan had to go and ruin his good mood by laughing at him later that night and showing off the light he had installed on the porch.

“Watch me now, you ass,” Ryan said.

Oh, but Thomas heard the tease in his voice. He caught the taunt that was so much like the old Ryan.

Thomas nodded. Yes, I will.

Thomas occupied himself learning Ryan’s routines and inspecting his work. He wanted to shift and help him, to provide and prepare for winter. But Thomas kept his distance and learned how Ryan figured things out. Thomas needed to let himself know Ryan as Wolf, which was different than knowing him as a human.

Thomas slunk low uphill when Ryan approached Thomas’s post the next morning. He tilted his head as Ryan touched the leaves where he’d bled and wore worry upon his face.

Thomas continued tracking Ryan as he followed the blood trail until he came to the border and knelt again, detecting the spot where the brief challenge had occurred. Thomas yawned and put his head down, eyes transfixed as he took in Ryan’s every move while he puzzled it out and looked around. Ryan found the Wolf trail but seemed to have no interest in searching past the Steeles’ eastern border. Thomas felt such familiarity with Ryan as he scratched at his hair, looked around again, and then inspected the space closer.

God, how I know him. Down to how he thinks, Thomas realized.

Then Ryan called out a single word breaking the forest into silence. “Wolf!”

Ryan waited in the woods. Thomas could tell he was listening too. Thomas sat perfectly still, almost snorting at himself as he realized he’d been holding his breath. Ryan seemed to think his Wolf wasn’t around, so he went back to Thomas’s regular post and examined that again. Ryan appeared to make a decision and returned to his work. Thomas kept to his new uphill post but felt a strange sense of happiness that Ryan was concerned about Wolf’s welfare. They were getting somewhere, making his still tender wounds throb a little less.

While Ryan cooked his dinner, Thomas took the perfect stone he’d found by the river in his mouth and crept up to the porch from the side so the light wouldn’t come on. He laid it on the bottom step and then returned to his old spot and waited. Thomas knew this gift was the one. There was no way Ryan could dismiss this.

Ryan finally returned with his meal to the porch. A few minutes later, finally, Ryan found it and held it; he examined and appreciated it. He held it for a long moment as if working out how it got there and by whom. There was only one decision he could have reached, crazy as it was, and Thomas knew this. When Ryan smiled, nodded, and put the stone on the rail right where he sat so he could see it, Wolf wanted to sing at the moon. He wished he could strut around in the woods. Thomas calmed himself. This was more progress. Then, Ryan spoke directly to him again.

“Thank you,” Ryan said, looking out where Thomas lay.

And he continued talking to Thomas as he miserably tried and failed to shoot a compound bow. Thomas ran and played to taunt Ryan, who laughed and said he’d never shoot him. Later, he yawned as Ryan struggled over putting out a trap. He’d looked around as if he were searching for Wolf again, and it pleased Thomas when Ryan carried the terrible device back inside. There was a feeling of causing no harm to his Wolf that lingered in the air.

Wolf was also pleased with this progress.

Thomas left a perfect pinecone on the step, so careful not to let his teeth break any of the scales. He knew Ryan would not sweep these tokens off the porch now, and his heart felt full for the first time since he was seventeen.