Chapter Fourteen

Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get—only with what you are expecting to give—which is everything.

—Katharine Hepburn

 

AROUND THE HUMAN Christmas, Tristan returned. Thomas migrated between his den and skulking around the outside of the cabin, pacing up and down the path wearing it deeper than it already was while Ryan’s friend was there for his school break. Tristan brought more supplies, and during one of his smoke breaks on the porch, he told Ryan of his plans after graduating at the end of that fall. He had several of his parents’ houses to deal with through the spring and part of the summer. His visits to the cabin would be fewer, and they needed to plan for long-term supplies, the small livestock, and expanded garden plans. Tristan brought a greenhouse building kit for Ryan to assemble and starter plants for the spring.

He also brought a high-powered rifle of his father’s but discouraged Ryan from using it unless it was for a bear. Tristan told Ryan he was concerned over small livestock drawing the attention of large predators.

“The gun rapport would be heard for miles,” Tristan warned.

Ryan had nodded from the porch as Thomas watched and listened in from the mouth of his den and silently agreed.

“What’s that water bowl for?” Tristan asked.

“I made friends with a Wolf,” Ryan said and shrugged. “He sleeps on the porch, and that water is for him.”

Tristan shook his head. “My father always said the Wolves on this land were special. You aren’t afraid?”

“No,” Ryan said, and Thomas could feel his honesty.

They chatted about Tristan’s school and about Tristan not being able to find Ryan’s sister. Later, they laughed and joked about stupid things the way close friends would. Thomas relaxed, and so did Wolf. Neither one of them smelled desire in the air, and for that, they would let this human live.

Tristan stayed for several days and helped Ryan with a few projects outdoors until their hands turned too cold. Thomas, as Wolf, hunted for extra winter food security and, as human, gathered more wood for his den at night, having to dig it out from under the snow and haul it back to dry inside. He handled his own housekeeping and cooking deep inside the ground. Nothing was wasted, everything used: sticks were whittled for utensils, finer fish bones used for tacking and sewing furs, skins cut and dried for leather cord. He kept himself very busy with the old ways they’d all been taught in the pack.

Fish and meat dried on a wood grid high above his fire and medicinal roots hung in sinew-bound bundles from the ceiling. A new cutout in the den wall held the shorter lengths of dried firewood he’d cut. He’d also stored long twine-bound herbs, dried leaves gathered before the first snow, and white oak acorns he’d boiled and roasted.

And if all else failed, he’d go to the river and lake in human form to gather crayfish and mussels. Over time, Thomas would teach Ryan this method and all the others he knew. Containers of melting snow lined the wall between the firepit and entrance. He’d boil some of the snow for his cooking and use the rest for his water source, while Wolf just chomped at and ate the snow.

Tristan finally left when there was a break in the snowfall.

When Thomas heard the truck start and rumble before it headed down the mountainside, he smiled but didn’t jump and run. He continued to read his book, tucked beneath thick blankets of furs. The small fire crackled and warmed his den. He’d pointed out the rock overhang within close view from the porch to Ryan one afternoon, telling him his home was beneath it. He told Ryan where he could find him and made it clear he was always welcome there.

Wolf had approved of this open invitation, but Ryan had never been there.

Now, Thomas smiled as he heard snow crunching beneath heavy boots and a few curses as Ryan moved the heavy, low-hanging snow-covered pine boughs from the entrance and then squeezed himself inside. Thomas flipped the page but read nothing as Ryan moved the branches back and crawled down through the deep tunnel.

When Ryan’s head appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, Thomas turned his head to the side.

“Oh, hi, decided to stop by?” Thomas asked with his poker face.

“Really? Pretending to read?” Ryan wiggled the rest of the way inside, then sat on his rear and looked around the cavernous single den. Thomas watched as Ryan’s eyes moved over every inch of what they had built, stocked, and stored. He scrutinized the bookshelf, the row of rocks, the fireplace, and the steaming kettle. He eyed the curing pelts for a long minute, and Thomas stayed quiet, letting him take it all in. Ryan darted a curious glance at the cup on the crude little table by Thomas’s bed.

“Would you like some tea?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” Ryan said and untied his boots.

“Staying over then?” Thomas got up and poured tea into the cup for Ryan and sat it back on the bedside table.

“I thought, uh…” Ryan scratched at his arm and then his neck. “I thought your Wolf might like it if…”

Ryan’s cheeks were so red, and Wolf was very pleased their mate had come to see him as he grumbled to shift.

“…might like to get to know me or something,” Ryan stammered uncomfortably.

“Yes, but first we will need to—” Thomas motioned for Ryan to swap places with him and pointed to the bedding. “You go there.” Thomas moved to where Ryan had been by the entrance. He dragged a few things out of the way while Ryan warmed up with his hot tea and again eyed all the pelts stretched tightly on frames.

“You’ve been busy,” Ryan said, running a hand over a fur.

“You have to for winter.” Thomas added two sticks of wood to the fire and then began pulling off his clothing.

“What do I do?” Ryan asked.

“Just be you. We would never hurt you, Ryan,” Thomas said as he shucked his pants. “Wolf already cares about you. Do not be afraid of him, of us. Ready?”

Ryan glanced around him and back at Thomas.

“Lie down and scoot over,” Thomas instructed.

Ryan lay down as a naked Thomas shifted into the giant Wolf.

Ryan gave Wolf a little wave with a shaky hand as Wolf huffed and eased down, keeping an eye on Ryan. “Hi,” Ryan said.

Wolf snorted and low-crawled closer. Ryan held his hand out, laying it across the blankets. Wolf inched closer, sniffing the tips of Ryan’s fingers and then nosing his palm.

“One in the same but different also,” Ryan said as he stared into Wolf’s eyes. “Okay, come on then.” Ryan patted the blanket.

Wolf carefully settled down on the wide pallet of furs with his snout on his paws, watching Ryan. Ryan turned to his side, which was finally healed. His stitches had been removed, and things had healed much more quickly with Grace’s remedies. Ryan ran his fingers over Wolf’s fur between his eyes and ears. Wolf rumbled low, enjoying the attention from their mate. The petting continued until Wolf yawned a great tongue curler and closed his eyes. He scooted closer to keep their mate warm through the night and then whined at Ryan.

“You are as bad as Thomas.” Ryan shifted his body, wrapped his arm around his big-ass Wolf, and pressed his ear over Wolf’s heart.

“Mate,” Ryan said, and Wolf sighed at the sound of it. When Ryan closed his eyes, Wolf sensed him trying to say it with his mind. Thomas had explained the links between Wolves and their mates and the mental telepathy they employed to communicate. Thomas wasn’t sure how it would work with a human mate but thought it might since he’d been able to hear his father even before he turned. It was the reason he’d thought he was crazy, with voices in his head.

Thomas had encouraged this scenario, alone time with Wolf. He didn’t know how else Ryan would understand or consider being turned. Thomas wanted Ryan to understand completely what he would be agreeing to. And if he didn’t choose it, Thomas had already committed to the idea of being satisfied with Ryan as his human mate. The choice was entirely up to Ryan.

With their connection, Wolf sensed Ryan’s thought: Mate. My mate, you are my Wolf.

Mate, mine. Wolf grumbled back at him in a voice that didn’t sound anything like Thomas. Not Thomas. Am Thomas. Am Wolf.

Wolf, Ryan agreed. It seemed he was beginning to understand the difference. He kept his eyes closed as Wolf slowly showed him things about Thomas. Memories and desires, sincere and honest communication, simple. Ryan was shown memories of himself and Thomas together—the accident and the recovery, Thomas’s transformation, his fight for Ryan with his pack, the many long years of Thomas’s grief, followed by their yearly journey to the prison, hoping for just a glimpse of him.

And Wolf sensed Ryan’s own worries and fears, his hopes and dreams, and some of his past experiences.

Wolf sighed with contentment next to Ryan, knowing Ryan felt the same, as if this time together had opened a door between them, revealing truths about Thomas and Wolf he hadn’t been aware of. Ryan slept peacefully, and they shared dreams of running through the forest beside each other and of two great Wolves together, howling at the moon.

Wolf sat on the floor next to the pallet bed and waited until Ryan woke. Ryan peered down at Wolf’s wet paws and the dead pure-white rabbit that lay between them. Wolf nosed the rabbit towards Ryan.

Ryan smiled at the gift and nodded. Thank you, he said in his mind.

Bond with Thomas, Wolf told him. Then become Wolf.

And then he backed up to the entrance and shifted. A nude Thomas stood where Wolf had been.

“Hey,” Ryan said, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“I’m freezing,” Thomas said, glancing at the now cold firepit and pulling on his clothes. “We need to get back and get the fires going again. And you have hungry chickens.” Thomas sighed at the rabbit, his cheeks pink. “And he wants…”

“Pretty sure I know what he wants,” Ryan said.

“No. I mean about the rabbit. He wants me to prepare the fur for you.” Thomas shook his head and began to put things away for their departure. He packed the few items that would spoil in a bundle to take back to the cabin.

“Like, to wear?” Ryan asked, pointing at the many pelts in various stages hanging on the walls or leaning against them in stretching frames. Ryan pulled on and tied his boots. Thomas had previously retrieved all of Ryan’s things that had been lost during the attack. He’d even mended his pelt poncho better than it had been before. Ryan sucked at sewing, which was why it had shredded so easily before.

“No, to sleep on.” Thomas practically had to choke it out. “Gah…like…over your pillow.”

Ryan grinned.

“Shut up,” Thomas said.

“I didn’t say anything,” Ryan said, following Thomas out of the den.

They crunched through deep snow and headed back to the cold cabin, no smoke coming from the chimney or kitchen smokestack.

“This is going to suck for a while,” Thomas said.

“Like a wedding gift?” Ryan asked, getting back to the rabbit.

Thomas made a pained noise as he held it by the ears and glared down at it. “A mate gift, a bonding gift—whatever. For when we…” Thomas shook his head and rolled his other hand.

“Oh, for when we bond,” Ryan said and nodded. “Okay, yeah, he showed me that.”

Thomas groaned. “I know.”

Ryan teased back, “I don’t know; our Wolf has a bit of a dirty mind, Thomas.”

“I have a dirty mind, Ryan, so my Wolf does too,” Thomas said and threw up a hand. “We are the same.”

“Clearly.” And Ryan laughed genuinely for the first time, like old times.