Greykin Mountain

| 8 | Who Are You?

          Damon gazed into Jackson's cerulean eyes. "I don't...understand."

          "Understand what?"

          "You."

          "O-okay..." he uttered, watching Damon's expression slowly fade into curiosity. "Well...I wish I understood me too, but I'm still new to all of this, so—"

          "Shut up," Damon snapped.

          Jackson fell silent.

          And then, Damon started sniffing him...again.

          He wanted to ask Damon why he was doing it, but he just stood there and let him get on with it. It was probably some wolf walker thing that he was yet to learn about. So he let Damon circle and sniff down his back and around his other side.

          Why was he doing it, though? Was it a thing wolf walkers did to get to know one another? Should he do it, too? He hesitated for a moment...but when Damon brushed past his face, Jackson inhaled quietly. The scent of moments before rainfall hit him along with something sweet and earthy. Cinnamon? Whatever it was, it seemed to captivate Jackson.

          But Damon then stopped sniffing and moved around to face Jackson. He stared into his eyes; however, this time, the Alpha didn't look mad, confused, or skeptical. Instead, he looked as though he'd just found what he'd been looking for.

          Jackson wanted to know what that was, but he struggled to focus on his questions when a strange feeling of longing enthralled him. He gazed into Damon's eyes—any hint of intimidation or confoundment faded, leaving him with something he couldn't quite explain. He felt eager...warm, safe, and like the wolf before him was the answer to everything.

          Everything.

          He didn't know why he felt this way—Damon had made it pretty clear he wanted no part in what Jackson had come to Greykin for, so how could he be the answer? Why did he feel like he needed Damon? And not just for safety. No...this feeling was almost desperation.

          None of it made sense, but before he could ask what was going on, Damon edged his muzzle closer to his. Jackson stood there, his heart beginning to beat a little harder; he let the white wolf nuzzle the side of his face, and when Damon guided his nose down to his neck, something pleasing slithered through Jackson. He closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as the Alpha pressed his face against his throat. His body started to tremble, and as the space beneath his back legs became unbearably hot, he dug his claws into the frozen soil under the snow.

          The closest thing he could compare this to was arousal...and when he moved his face against Damon's neck to inhale his scent once more, the feeling intensified, ensnaring him in intoxicating anticipation.

          But then Damon pulled away.

          Jackson lowered his head and looked at him. A distressed frown had stolen Damon's curious expression, and after a few moments of silent staring, the white wolf moved past him and started walking away.

          Watching him leave, Jackson became entangled in bewilderment and disappointment. For a moment, he'd thought this was going somewhere—somewhere he longed to be—and seeing Damon walk away to join his family brought dismay to his heart.

          He laid back in the snow, trying to calm his trembling, burning body. What the hell was that all about? Why had he suddenly felt so...strange? He knew he was attracted to Damon—he had been from the moment they'd met, but what he'd experienced just now was different. It was like he needed Damon, like a part of him thought Damon was his...and like he was Damon's. But that was stupid, wasn't it? They didn't know each other, and it was nothing more than a crush. And maybe...because Damon had saved his life so many times already, Jackson was simply making more out of that than he should.

          It was nothing.

          It was nothing...right?

          He sighed in frustration and moved his paws over his face, trying to keep himself from thinking about it too much. But why? Why had that just happened? What did Damon mean when he'd asked him who he was? He already knew who he was. And what was with all that sniffing? The touching? Those...feelings.

          And why wasn't his frustration withering?

          With an irritated grumble, he shuffled onto his side and glared into the woods. It seemed as though the number of questions he had would continue to increase, and it was reaching a point he found overwhelming. When was he going to get answers? Missing people, zombie wolves, wolf walkers...and now this. This attraction—no...this desire. It came on so suddenly and so strongly, and now, he couldn't shove it aside. Why? Why, why, why?! He snarled in turmoil and rolled onto his back, his paws facing the sky.

          But in his turbulent state, it smacked his face.

          Who was Damon?

          Jackson laid his head back, staring at the world as if the sky was at his feet. He set his eyes on Damon, who had curled up beside Aysel. Why did that wolf make him feel all these things? Why had Damon saved him? How had he even found him in that village? And why bring him back to his pack if wolf walkers despised rogues?

          What did Damon want with him? Was it really all about the fact he'd been turned by a cadejo...or was there more to it? What had just happened made him believe that might be the case, but he didn't want to get ahead of himself—he didn't want to distract himself. He wasn't here to explore the strange feelings he had for a man he'd not even known for two days.

          He couldn't stop thinking about it, though. Damon's touch was unlike anything he'd experienced before. Jackson turned onto his stomach and turned to face where Damon was resting, and when the Alpha shuffled around and locked eyes with him again, something electrified him. Was it fluster? Hope? Both? Damon looked frustrated, too; had he felt the same things as Jackson? He wanted Damon to come over to him again, and as the Alpha stood up, his heart started beating harder. Was he coming over?

          Damon didn't head his way. Instead, the white wolf woke Aysel with a nudge of his snout. The black-grey wolf looked up at him and they nuzzled each other's faces. Then, to Jackson's dismay, Damon eagerly and quietly led his partner away from the sleeping pack and into the cover of the trees.

          Jackson didn't even need to wonder what they were doing. Jealousy gushed through him, his body heating with anger. He felt like such an idiot—like a high school nerd with a crush on the popular, toxic jock who was already dating the sexy, rich cheerleader. Hopeless. Stupid. It wasn't going anywhere.

          And neither was he. Not yet. So he was just going to have to suck it up and focus on what actually mattered: Wilson and those Greykin Mountain had stolen.

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