Chapter Eleven

Mine.

—Wolf

 

THE TRUCK IN the night woke Thomas. He quickly shifted and headed to the path. It was one of the worst experiences of his life as he watched and listened to Tristan explain Thomas’s death to Ryan, attempt awkward comforting, and then leave him with supplies and a box that contained what Ryan thought to be Thomas’s ashes.

Thomas whined uncontrollably in the woods as he listened to Ryan scream and cry. He heard it when Ryan cried inside with the miserable box.

Go, Wolf demanded.

Then, Wolf took complete control for only the third time in their existence, blocking out this trauma for Thomas. Wolf knew what their combined strengths and greatest weaknesses were. For Thomas, this was too much to keep him from going to their mate.

Wolf respected pack law.

He knew the endgame and the end result they wanted to achieve for their mate. Wolf had already sensed the first thought that Thomas would go, bursting through the door to make it right. To ease Ryan’s suffering.

Wolf sniffed on the porch for danger and whined, scratching at the door in sorrow to their mate. This hurt him, too, but sensing only emotional pain and no physical injury, Wolf lay in front of the door and stayed until their mate finally slept. He kept not only their mate safe but protected Thomas from himself. Only then, when both had calmed, did he subside and let Thomas lead them again.

This had taken Thomas patience and work to understand—how his Wolf could dominate them in times of extreme stress, danger, in a fight, if they were injured, or when they hunted more dangerous prey. Wolf ensured their survival. Otherwise, Wolf was content to ride in the backseat of their shared mind, frequently offering up his two cents but usually in line with Thomas’s way of thinking. Wolf coexisted internally but remained another that was and was not completely him.

At times, it was frustrating and confusing, but Thomas had finally come to accept that this was Wolf. He hadn’t been born fully lupine, and that part of himself, suppressed in his youth, had made getting to know himself, his Wolf, challenging. Those first few years had been overwhelming.

Thomas resumed his observation the following day as Ryan came outside, clean and dressed nicely. His face was smooth with the beard gone.

Wolf stirred.

And Thomas smiled. I told you, he whispered.

Ryan was so handsome, and Thomas absorbed the new image of him as Wolf did the same. They liked him smooth-faced, without the old hat. His hair had grown longer; how Thomas loved the look of the sun on those dark curls. Ryan cleaned up so much so that Thomas felt undeserving. He was so lucky to have such an appealing mate, but there was no joy today, which quickly killed the lust.

They stood guard as Ryan built a small box. It frustrated Wolf. He wanted to comfort their mate, to curl and wrap around him, hold him against their warm, soft underside, that most vulnerable place meant only for a sleeping mate. Wolf wanted to bond with their mate now, to make this pain disappear. Thomas wanted to console their mate too. And he definitely wanted to do some mate bonding. But this was not the time to be thinking those kinds of thoughts. After all, they were clearly attending their own funeral today.

Wolf sighed.

Right, Thomas agreed.

So, they stuck closer than usual to Ryan that day, letting him get more glimpses of them so their mate would know he wasn’t alone in this grief. They were there, working together to show their mate their loyalty and support as best they could. Ryan now wore Thomas’s stone necklace, which made them very happy. But their happiness faded again when Ryan performed a somber funeral, and they understood now why the stone held their name and who Ryan believed he had laid to rest there. They understood now that Ryan intended to rest eternally there too. Ryan’s love had never failed, never faltered—after all these years.

They looked on with a sad, shared heart as Ryan visited and cried, professing and promising. They listened as Ryan spoke to their spirit.

Wolf understood loyalty and honor above most things.

Seeing it in Ryan had made Wolf decide for them. They would stay in the den and not return to the pack. They would wait by mate’s side, with or without the pack. Wolf no longer feared going feral after today, not after hearing it all directly from Ryan’s lips. They would be Lone Wolf. And once again, Wolf took over. Without hesitation, he severed all binding links to their pack.

Once back in control, Thomas realized what Wolf had done. There was no undoing it either. Thomas sighed. The voices in his head were no more. His father’s calls went silent. Thomas would have to take stock of their stores and focus more determinedly on preparing for winter. After that move, they would truly be on their own.

We are Wolf, his other self grumbled.

We will be a skinny Wolf if we don’t hunt and eat, Thomas scolded.

And that was what they did. They hunted, and Ryan hunted. At night, Thomas cleaned and stretched pelts in his den, a long process that would eventually provide more warmth during the worst of winter. So far, everyone was healthy and strong for the long, harsh season.

Ryan had a way to store meat inside. Thomas had checked Ryan’s wood supply, and he had more than enough. Ryan had an underground water source so his water would not freeze. Thomas nodded. Ryan had done good hard work in a short amount of time. Their mate would survive this winter, and if he did get into any trouble, Thomas would figure out a way to help.

*

IT HAPPENED DURING the first snow. Someone in the pack sent a hunter Wolf—their best.

Luke.

Thomas knew him well.

Thomas had just startled some rabbits out of the woods and into a clearing for Ryan to shoot. Now, they were headed back to the cabin when the fierce, highly skilled hunter attacked Ryan—a kill order. Wolf saw it in the hunter’s eyes.

Fuck, Thomas got out, but there was nothing he could do to stop what happened next.

Wolf took over, and he was enraged. Huge paws ate up the earth as he charged and slammed into the open mouth sent to kill their mate.

Kill you. Wolf sentenced Luke’s Wolf. My mate, he snarled at Luke and struck again with murderous fangs and bloody claws.

They were a snarling, biting, tearing roll of fur, legs, teeth, and claws. Wolf roared his fury, but the hunter came at them again and again. Wolf fought for death and their mate, snapping at the hunter’s leg and trying to crush his muzzle. Hunter’s claws sank in deep, but Wolf ignored the pain and rallied, biting and tearing with equal violence.

Wolf backed up closer to their mate, protecting him, and growled fiercely at the hunter. Hunter crouched, prepared to attack again—to kill both of them.

When a thick arm wrapped around Wolf’s middle, a strong human hand dug deep into his fur and gripped tight. Ryan pulled Wolf hard backwards and against his own body. A loud spray and foul smell hissed, shooting through the air at the hunter and striking him in the face. Hunter yowled in pain and pawed at his nose and eyes.

Then Wolf was being tugged back again by his mate.

“Fuck, come on. We have to go now,” Ryan panted.

Wolf whined and nosed at his mate’s side.

Ryan groaned and stood, holding his side, pressing his winter knit hat to his wounds. He limped back to the cabin, and Wolf followed, leaving his own trail of blood alongside their mate’s. They were both severely injured, but Wolf was already slowly healing. Mate was hurt badly, and Wolf whined.

Ryan dropped the rabbit he’d killed and kicked some snow over it. He made his way up the steps to the cabin and groaned in pain at the door, weakening to the point where he didn’t bother closing it. Wolf followed him inside and waited as Ryan gathered the box and tried to heal himself, but mate’s hands shook so much. Thomas screamed desperately inside their mind. Wolf knew he couldn’t help their mate. Not with this; this required human hands. So Wolf called forth Thomas, forcing his human shift.

Thomas. Wolf growled his demand.

Wolf had never done this before, taken the choice out of Thomas’s control, reversing the shift to human. It had only ever been the other way around, and this reversal seriously violated Wolf law.

Thomas blinked, eyes widening as he realized he stood on his bare human feet, still bleeding heavily. Thomas was in a bloody pool on the stone floor and sucked in a ragged breath—Ryan’s blood, Thomas’s blood. Thomas’s wounds had not yet healed, nowhere close. He didn’t look at Ryan as he heard him suck in a shocked breath too. Thomas couldn’t look at him. He approached silently, cautiously.

Wolf demanded what must be done and controlled their fear. He managed their shaking hands, racing heart, and a terrifying fear of losing Ryan. That control was the only thing that enabled Thomas to calmly take the needle from Ryan’s hand.

Ryan freely released it in his shock and instant anger.

With his other hand, Thomas pushed Ryan onto his back and then nudged him over to better expose his wounded side. Thomas growled low as he pinched the gaping wounds together and worked quickly and neatly, stitching up his mate. His Wolf seethed just beneath the surface.

Mate dying, Wolf howled out in pain.

“Mate, not dying,” Thomas growled out. “Won’t let mate die.”

God, he loved Grace for teaching him this skill.

When he ran out of thread, Thomas yanked the red medical box over and grabbed the spool of black waxed thread. He threaded the needle again and went back to work with quick, short, not-too-tight looping stitches.

Thomas glanced up at Ryan’s face. He was scowling, in pain—but if looks could kill.

“I know, okay. I know,” Thomas snapped. “This is not the time, Ryan. This is bad. Control your breathing.”

“Control my breathing, he says,” Ryan mocked and then laughed meanly.

“I’ll explain everything to you, but right now…” Thomas shook his head. “This, okay. Just this. I can’t think, and I’m scared, okay.”

“So. Much. Explaining,” Ryan snapped back at him and then went quiet, only grunting and occasionally hissing in pain as the needle pierced his skin repeatedly.

Thomas tried to ignore Ryan’s tears and his own stinging eyes as he continued to stitch up the five deep lacerations from the hunter Wolf’s claws. There was so much blood, Ryan’s blood, and it terrified Thomas like nothing else ever had in his life.

The wounds on Ryan’s arm weren’t deep, and Thomas used supplies in the kit to bandage those with a row of butterfly bandages along the deepest ones. Those were nothing. The hip was another story, with gaping, ugly gashes meant to kill. The middle two slashes were the deepest and most deadly. A few inches higher up, closer to Ryan’s vital organs, and Thomas would not have been able to save him.

Thomas looked up at the tears that continued to fall. “Don’t. I can’t. Not yet,” Thomas choked out as Ryan turned his face the other way. But his silence was so very loud.

Even Wolf slunk back at the silence they were given.

Thomas focused on what was most important at this moment. Thomas was still bleeding and had begun to sweat profusely in the heated bathroom and from his own loss of blood. When Thomas finally had all the wounds closed, he rinsed his hands in the pool, then cleaned the blood away from Ryan’s skin. It was already deeply bruising. Thomas dried the skin with a towel and applied a wound cleaner, medical cream, and gauze to cover Ryan’s side. He wiped the rest of the blood from Ryan and some from himself. Thomas helped him to his feet and carefully to the bed.

“Lie down,” Thomas instructed and returned to the bathroom, where he quickly cleaned up the mess on the floor and put away the medical box. Thomas cleaned himself up and pressed a towel to his own still-bleeding wounds. Thomas couldn’t heal as human. He went to the bed where Ryan lay and just stared at him for a moment.

“Hi,” Thomas said and smiled a little.

“Mm,” Ryan grunted and focused intensely at where Thomas held the towel and narrowed his eyes.

“I need to go outside to handle this, to heal,” Thomas said.

“Oh, no,” Ryan said and half sat up with a painful wince. “You aren’t going anywhere.” And the bastard pointed to the floor next to the bed.

Wolf whined inside him, and Thomas gritted out, “Fine.”

He tossed the bloody towel on the floor and shifted—right there in front of Ryan. Wolf was very pleased with this and sat tall and proud, showing off for their mate.

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan muttered as he took in the massive Timber Wolf now sitting and taking up the entire floor space next to the bed. “What the fuck am I even seeing? Jesus, you’re huge.”

Wolf made a pleased noise.

Stop that. He’s angry with us, Thomas snapped.

Mate not angry with Wolf. See? Wolf bragged.

Wolf rumbled, stood, and moved closer to the bed. He sat again, resting his muzzle on Ryan’s uninjured bare side and stomach, inhaling deeply, then closed his eyes contently as he let their wounds heal.

“I don’t know if I should pet you or punch you,” Ryan grumbled.

Wolf nosed Ryan’s hand and whined.

Oh my God, Thomas muttered.

Ryan relented and scratched between Wolf’s ears, and Thomas swore as they both seemed to purr. Something Wolves didn’t even do.

“So you are a Wolf, but you are him too,” Ryan said quietly, nodding. “I should have known, understood sooner. No normal Wolf…would…” Ryan shook his head. “I feel crazy, but it makes so much more sense now. My first cellmate taught me to believe in what shouldn’t be real. All the unexplainable, the unimaginable, everything thought to be impossible. I doubt nothing anymore, not after Léander.” But Ryan winced in so much pain.

Wolf whined, licked Ryan’s cheek, and then backed up and took stock of his own wounds, now closing. In a few minutes, he would let Thomas take over and tend to their mate again. Wolf lay down on the floor and waited, closing his eyes to focus on their healing.