Fresh Blood (Book 1)

8. The Bloody Parts

Dean shivered on the cold floor of the cage. The cold cement almost burned where it touched bare skin. A lot of the previous night was blurry to him. What he did remember was breaking Olivia’s hand. But she sat on the couch facing the cage, cuddled up in a thick blanket knitting. Obviously her hand was fine.

“Are you humming Keane?” Dean asked her softly. She stopped what she was doing and her smile widened as she looked him over.

“It’s a lullaby my mother used to hum to me when I was little.” Dean drew the blanket from the bed around himself and stood on shaky limbs.

“Yes, it is Keane. A Bad Dream to be exact,” Virginia said from the doorway, “It was one of the only rock bands her father didn’t know. He didn’t approve of anything but Christian Gospel.”

“Huh,” Dean said as he watched Olivia knit. He had liked her before, thought maybe he loved her. But now, now everything in the room seemed to come alive just because she was there. Like her presence was the only thing that mattered.

“I used to sing Carry on My Wayward Son to you when you were a baby. Your father blames me for your obsession with Kansas.”

“Who?” Olivia said.

“Oh my God. What? You don’t know Kansas? What kind of upbringing did you have? Was it under a rock?” Dean all but yelled at her.

“Essentially,” Virginia muttered. Dean looked at her, she smirked. Olivia hadn’t heard her.

“When can he come out of there?” Olivia asked.

“When he can get those pretty yellow eyes to go away. It proves he’s in control of his wolf and not the other way around.”

“What happens if I can’t get control?” Dean asked as he sat on the bed. It felt instantly warmer.

“Do you think you can’t control your wolf?” Virginia asked him.

“I-” he trailed off and looked at Olivia.

“Livy, go upstairs.”

“What? Why?”

“Just go,” Virginia ordered. Olivia groaned and unwrapped herself from the warm cocoon. The chilled basement air bit into her bare legs. She began climbing the stairs but stopped at the top and sat down. The acoustics of the basement were excellent, she knew she’d be able to hear everything they were saying.

“Do you feel out of control?” Virginia asked Dean after a moment.

“No. I feel really in control. I feel like my wolf is docile. Like it-”

“Doesn’t need a leash. Right?” Virginia interrupted him. His dark eyebrows crumpled together and he gave her a slight nod.

“How’d you know?”

“I went through the same thought process. Nobody thought anything of it because of the way I shift, and the fact that I was a Lycan. They thought that it was normal.”

“What happened?” Dean could smell something on her, something that was telling him she was experiencing worry, even fear.

“Not all wolves come roaring to the surface right away. Each wolf is different just as each person is different. Some wolves take time to come to the surface. That’s the way mine is, the way yours is. I gave my wolf the control of not putting a leash on her. She took that as a sign that she could take control whenever she wanted,” Virginia said. Dean sat quietly, watching her. She smiled, teal began to tinge the area around his pupils.

“Okay.”

“You need to understand that our wolves, unlike our human halves, are not inherently good or evil. They are animals, smartest animals in the world, but animals nonetheless. We were running, Brandon, Samuel, Kaleb, and a few others, for the first time as a group after I had turned. It had only been about a month, not long enough for me to have any idea of my wolf, or what I was. I shouldn’t have pushed Brandon to let me run with them and he shouldn’t have let me.”