Wolfsong

  It couldn’t have all been for nothing.

  These past three years couldn’t have been nothing.

  They weren’t.

  Because I was here, standing tall, even though I felt like crumbling.

  My daddy had told me people were gonna give me shit and that it was gonna hurt.

  My father was a liar.

  Everything had been shit.

  But I was still fucking standing.

  I said, “Hey, Joe.”

  And he looked up at me with fire-red eyes, skin along his face rippling with the shift.

  He said, “Ox.”

  My mother took me to church once. After my daddy had left.

  She thought maybe we could both use some Jesus.

  Joe said my name like the preacher spoke about God.

  Reverent, filled with awe. Terror and adoration.

  I didn’t know what to do with that.

  I didn’t know that I deserved that.

  I did the only thing I could think of.

  I kissed Joe Bennett. There. In the old house.

  And for that moment, everything was all right.

  IT WAS like before.

  Only not.

  We lay side by side in my old bed, facing each other.

  We didn’t fit in it like we used to.

  I hadn’t changed much. Maybe gotten a little wider, but not much else.

  Joe, though.

  Joe had changed.

  He took up more room than he ever had before.

  It was a tight fit. But we made it work.

  One of his legs was pressed between mine. I held it in place.

  We shared the same pillow. I told myself it was just because we couldn’t have him falling off the bed. But really, I just wanted him as close as I could get him.

  He didn’t mind. I thought maybe he wanted to be close too.

  We didn’t speak much, at least for a little while. I felt like all I’d been doing is talking lately and it was nice to have a break. To not need words. It wasn’t going to last, but that was okay. It was enough for now.

  He’d walked into the room, and it was much like the first time he’d ever done so, eyes darting everywhere, taking everything in. I didn’t know what he saw, what differences were here. What differences there were in me. But I saw the exact moment he found the little stone wolf, still sitting atop my old desk. He froze, and the whine that came out was more wolf than human, a low, wounded noise that hurt my heart. He hadn’t made a move for it, hadn’t even reached an arm out to touch it, but he knew it was there all the same. What it meant for me. And for him.

  He didn’t take his eyes away from me as we lay in that bed. They roamed over my face like he was trying to memorize me all over again. I can’t say I wasn’t doing anything different. I wondered what I’d see if he couldn’t heal like he could. What kind of scars there’d be. What stories they’d tell. I had my fair share. My stomach. My right arm. My back was the worst from when that Omega had gotten me the night Thomas had died. They told my stories. I couldn’t tell Joe’s.

  The world moved outside of my room, but we ignored it.

  He reached out and ran a finger along my eyebrows. My cheek. My forehead. The tip of my nose. He brushed it against my mouth and I kissed it, the barest press of my lips.

  I wanted… more from him. More than I’d wanted from anyone else before. And it would be easy to take, because he’d give me his everything.

  I couldn’t do it, though. Not yet. I thought maybe I was on my way to forgiveness, if there was still anything left to forgive, but I wasn’t there yet.

  And I still had a pack to think of. A territory to protect.

  I didn’t want to speak.

  But I had to.

  I said, “Joe.”

  He said, “Yeah, Ox,” and for a moment my breath caught, because for all the times I’d imagined him finally back with me, here, in my bed, I never really expected it to feel like this.

  He must have heard the tripping of my heart, because he pressed a hand against my chest. The angle was awkward, not really enough space for him to press too hard, but I knew what he was doing.

  My heartbeat slowed. Calmed.

  “I need to know,” I finally said.

  He gave a little hum, eyes glinting.

  “He’s coming here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Again.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  His teeth were sharper. “Because that’s what he does. He’s no longer rational. He has lost himself to his wolf. I don’t think he even remembers what it was like to be human. The wolf, it… thinks differently, Ox. It’s still us. We’re still here, but when we change, when we shift, it’s not about rational anymore. It’s about base instinct. Things are more black-and-white. It’s the human side that deals in shades of gray. He’s lost that way of thinking. He gave up his humanity because he blames humans for destroying his family. It doesn’t need to be more complex than that.”

  “Why now?”

  I felt his claws prick my chest through my shirt, but his eyes never left mine. “Because he knew it would bring me back here. He needed time to recover. To heal. To put himself back together. He changed course, but the endgame is the same. He made sure to send us that message with the Kings. Killing David was the last sign. Everything pointed back to Green Creek.”

  “He’s circling.”

  Joe smiled bitterly. “More like ensnaring. By pointing threats in your direction, he knew I’d have no choice but to come home.”

  “You always have a choice.”

  His smile softened. “Not when it comes to you.”

  I couldn’t take much more of this. My skin was buzzing and I felt the need to touch and mark and bite, but I had to finish this first. I had to make sure.

  “What do we do?”

  He sighed. “What we have to. I’m tired of running, Ox. I’m tired of chasing shadows. All I want is to dig my feet into this earth because it once belonged to my father. And I know he meant it for me too. This was his home. It’s yours now, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with you and this. What you are. But I want it to be mine too. I want it to be ours. If you’ll let us. If you’ll have me.”

  Doubts, then. “I’m not—”

  “No,” he growled. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say you’re not anything.”

  Of course he knew. Those residual fears that I couldn’t ever be rid of, a holdover from when I didn’t think I’d amount to much. Maybe I could see now that I meant something to someone. Or someones. Maybe I could see it in their eyes when they looked at me. But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel like I was still a kid playing dress-up. Or a sheep in wolves’ clothing. It was a mask, this thing I was, and I wore it well.

  Funny thing was, I almost believed it.

  “Ox,” Joe said, sounding frustrated. “How can you not see it?”

  I said, “I’m human,” as if that explained it all. To me, it did.

  He smiled. “I know. And that’s the best part of all.”

  We were whispering now, as if saying this any louder wouldn’t make it real.

  I said, “What do we do?”

  He said, “Whatever we can.”

  I said, “I don’t know if I can do this. By myself.”

  He said, “You won’t have to. Ox, don’t you see? I’m here now. If you’ll let me be.”

  I said, “You can’t leave again. You can’t. You can’t. Even if he comes. And even if he runs again. Joe, you can’t leave us again. You can’t leave me again.”

  He said, “I won’t,” and I heard the promise behind those two words, the intent. Joe Bennett was many things to me, but he wasn’t a liar. He might have had my anger, however much of it was still left. He might have held the remains of my trust in his hands. But Joe Bennett wouldn’t lie to me. Not about this. Not when it meant so much.

  I believed him.

  So I don’t know that I can be blamed for surging forward t
hen, thinking now and finally and JoeJoeJoe. He grunted once, but I swallowed it down, my mouth on his, frantic and harsh. His hands came up and cupped my face, holding me close, and aside from the taste of him, all I could think about was the last time we were like this, side by side. We’d been saying good-bye then, and now it was hello, hello, I can’t believe you’re here, hello.

  It was clumsy at first. The angle was off, the rhythm filled with teeth and too much saliva. It hit me that I was only the second person he’d kissed in his life, if what he’d said was true. Frankie had been nothing but a passing thought, and I never wanted to know just how far they’d gone.

  So I gentled it down as well as I could, slowing the pace, dragging it out. He was already breathing heavily as I swiped my tongue along his lips. He let out a little gasp, the smallest of noises, and his lips parted and my tongue touched his.

  One moment I was leaning over him and the next I was flat on my back with an Alpha werewolf on top of me, a growl vibrating from his chest as he dragged his nose along my neck up behind my ear, inhaling as he went. His lips trailed after, wet against my throat, huffing out little breaths on my skin, trying to get his scent to mix in with mine.

  He stretched out on top of me, and if there had been any doubt we were now evenly matched, that was long gone given how we met perfectly from head to toe. He ground down onto me, and I felt the hard line of his cock pressing against mine.

  I reached up and wrapped my hand around the back of his head, holding him close against my neck. He was panting now, like it was overwhelming, like all of this was crashing over him. He trailed his lips and tongue up my jaw until he kissed me again. He was still unsure, the kisses shy and unpracticed, but it felt more real than any other person I’d been with.

  I let go of the nape of his head and slid my hand down the wide expanse of his back, trying to find skin, trying to feel the heat of him.

  His shirt had risen up, and I touched his back, pressing my hand flat against him, pushing him down as I pushed myself up, wanting the rough friction. He groaned into my mouth as our cocks lined up briefly before sliding next to each other.

  He was pulling back, just the smallest amounts, his lips still brushing mine, saying, “I don’t know what to do, I’ve never done this, I don’t know what to do,” and his eyes were the brightest red I’d ever seen, like he was burning from the inside out.

  “I know,” I said. “I know, I do, I’ll take care of—”

  Which, really. I should have known to never tell a current bed partner of my past sexual experiences while in bed with him, especially if he happens to be an Alpha on a hair trigger. The moment I said I do, because I did know what to do, my hands were pinned over my head and Joe was snarling in my face, teeth sharp and eyes flaring impossibly brighter.

  “You said you didn’t do that while I was gone,” he growled, hips stuttering against me like they hadn’t caught up with the fact that he was pissed.

  Not that he had any right to be. “I didn’t,” I snapped back. “I told you I—”

  “No one else,” he said and then rolled his hips deliberately, like he wanted to see my reaction up close.

  I couldn’t stop my eyes from fluttering shut, my tongue darting out to wet my lips. I said, “Joe,” and he did it again, harder this time.

  “Say it,” he said hotly, pressing his forehead to mine, circling his hips again and again. “You say it, Ox.”

  It was fucked up. It really was. Because I knew what he wanted, what it meant to the wolf, and it was possessive and not who I was. I wasn’t a thing.

  But goddamn, did that do more for me than anything else.

  There was the Alpha part of me that gnashed its teeth at the thought.

  But there was the even bigger part, the part that was all Ox, that said, yes yes yes.

  “Say it,” the wolf said near my ear.

  “Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “Yours, Joe. I’m yours.”

  He shook above me, inhaling sharply like he was surprised, like he didn’t expect me to agree with him, to do what he said. I didn’t know how deep his insecurities ran or how far his instincts were taking him, but he hadn’t expected it.

  It was the start, I thought. For the both of us.

  Because even though he was still clumsy, even though he didn’t know what to do, he sat up and straddled my waist, legs bent on either side of me. He rolled his hips again as he took his shirt by the hem and pulled it up and over his head, revealing that wide chest of his, the sparse hair, the cut of his stomach. He tossed the shirt to the floor and leaned back on his hands as I traced along his stomach up to his chest. His nipples were dusky, little whorls of hair around them. I took one between my fingers and gave it sharp twist, watching his stomach clench, mouth falling open.

  And because I could, I rose up, wrapping my arms around his back, holding him close to me, licking where my fingers had been. His nipple hardened under my tongue, and I scraped my teeth against him just to feel him tremble.

  His dick was pressing against my stomach through denim, but I wasn’t ready for it yet. He leaned over behind me as I worried his flesh with my teeth, pulling at my work shirt until he got it and the tank top I wore underneath up to my shoulders. I leaned slightly to let him pull them off. I didn’t see where it went because there was so much skin pressed against mine. He burned hot, almost feverish, as he tilted my head back and kissed me again, sloppy and wet. He tasted like I thought he would, clean and powerful. He gripped the sides of my face with his hands as I dropped my own down to cup his ass, squeezing to pull him against me even more.

  He muttered my name against my lips before I tilted my head back again. His teeth found the skin near my throat and began sucking a mark. Something in me shifted, growling at the idea of him marking me, trying to get him to suck harder, to use more teeth. I wanted it there for everyone to see, so no one would make a mistake as to who put it there. These weren’t thoughts I’d ever had with anyone else, but then I’d never been with someone like him.

  I reached between us as he continued marking me, trying to grab the front of his jeans. I missed the fly and my knuckles dragged against the hard outline of his cock. It was an accident, but I did it again when he whined against my neck. I pressed harder, with purpose. He rutted against me as I did my best to grip him, but the denim was too soft between my fingers, the friction too light.

  I reached up and pushed against his chest, leaning him back again. His eyes were red and heavy-lidded as he looked down between us, slack-jawed. His lips were swollen and slick and I had the savage thought that I’d done that. I’d made him look that way.

  I flipped the button of his jeans with a practiced twist of my wrist, something that caused him to growl. I ignored him. He didn’t need to be upset with my experience, especially since he was going to benefit from it.

  “Jesus,” I muttered. “What is with you and not wearing underwear?”

  He grinned sharply down at me. “I had hopes.”

  I snorted and trailed my fingers along the base of his cock, his wiry pubic hair scratching against the back of my hand. His breath caught in his chest and I was almost struck dumb at the fact that I was teasing him, that he was here, that we were together, and I was teasing him. The thought that I was the only one that had done this to him (and I was certain of that now) only made me feel more powerful. That I was the only one who’d seen him like this.

  (And the only one who will get to, a little voice whispered in my head, but I pushed that away because it was too much, too much for me to even think about, even though the lizard part of my brain said yes and yes and yes.)

  I pulled his dick out of his jeans, careful of the zipper. He was uncut and half-hard, his dick slimmer than mine and maybe a little longer. The weight of it in my hand short-circuited my brain a bit. Wolves burn warm, and it felt hot in my hands. I gripped it, squeezing as carefully as I dared, watching the foreskin slide as he grunted and thrust into my hand.

  “Ox,” he said, sounding brea
thless and strangled.

  “I know,” I said gently as I tightened my grip on him.

  “You gotta—”

  “I know.”

  “Do something!”

  I let go of his cock and he exhaled heavily, like he’d been punched in the stomach. Before he could protest, I raised my hand toward his face and said, “Lick.”

  He didn’t even question it. He grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth, tongue rasping over my palm, up between my fingers, before sucking two of them into his mouth, getting them spit-slick and wet. I ground my teeth together to keep from shoving him back and taking what I wanted right then and there. This wasn’t about me, though. Not yet. I needed to make this good for him.

  I pulled my hand away, and he whimpered, reaching up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are you—”

  The rest of it was choked off when I grabbed his dick again and, using his spit, slid my hand up and down. His hands came down to my shoulders, claws out, but not digging into my skin as I jacked him off. His stomach muscles tensed as I leaned forward and licked up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around my neck, pulling me close, barely leaving enough space for my hand between us. He was growling near my ear, a continuous purr that I was going to make fun of him later for.

  I swiped my thumb over the tip of his dick, and his hips jerked. I groaned, my cock pressing painfully against my zipper, trapped under his ass. I couldn’t get off like this, and I didn’t want to. I wasn’t a kid anymore. I didn’t need to nut in my jeans.

  I nosed my way up to his neck and it wouldn’t be until later that I realized he never froze, never pulled away. He bared his throat to me as if it were nothing, as if he weren’t an Alpha who was unused to doing such things. The throat, I knew, was a vulnerable place for a wolf. It showed rank, especially for an Alpha. Betas always bared their throats to the Alpha as a sign of respect. Even the humans in my pack had taken to doing it whenever they saw me, an unconscious action I didn’t even think they were aware of anymore.