Jared's POV:
I swear as I hear growling a few hundred feet from where I'm at. Damn that Alpha and his instincts. The rest of the pack is drawn to the noise. I start running. "Back down, all of you! Go home!" I take off toward the sounds of the fight, but Josh is head of me, shifting his weight from paw to paw uneasily.
"I can't break them up!" He says through the pack connection, his ears flicking back as one of the two give a brutal snarl. "They're really going at it!"
Growling, I jump into the mix and grab the girl by the scruff of the neck, ripping her off of Drew and throwing her away. She lands on her side and rolls. It takes three seconds for her to stand. She braces herself for another lunge. I shift into my wolf form right as Dew recovers and tenses for another attack. I hunch my shoulders, bare my teeth, raise my hackles, stand at my full height and stare down at the female.
"Enough!" I roar. They both growl, teeth shining with saliva and blood. She jumps to the side, but I'm between her and Drew, and she can't take a clear shot without the chance of getting me instead. Drew, feeling the rank beginning to bare down on him, stands to his full height, no longer coiling his muscles to fight. I stand, raising my chin, and stalk toward her. She bares her teeth at me even more, brown fur standing on end. I can see red tints to it that aren't her regular color. I turn to Drew. "You wounded her?"
He's licking at his front paw, which I see is also hurt, and glances up at me. His fur quivers. "She was going to fall into the river! I had no choice!"
"Alphas," I growl. "Always think you know everything!"
Shylah's growls have died down. I turn back to her and stop pulling rank, going over to poke my nose to her shoulder. "You're running on adrenaline and Lunac power. Those wounds that he inflicted need to be treated, but I can't help you if you don't give me consent. If you want answers, I can help you."
She whines at me. Speech seems to be beyond her ability. It's not uncommon when they first shift. I go back to human form and crouch at her side. My hand threads through her fur. "You're safe with us," I say. "But you've got to trust me, or I can't fix you."
She whines again, and her eyes glance between me and Drew before her muzzle dips into a nod. And then her eyes shut and she faints. Drew is beside her in human form before she even touches the ground, arms tucked under her side and lifting her up.
"I got her," he says gruffly.
I give him a wary look. "You're pushing yourself, Drew. Are you--."
"Go get Calypso and have her bring two med kits to my house. I can manage, Jared." He holds my gaze and nods in reassurance. "I'm fine."
His hand is bleeding, his shirt is slowly blooming red, and he walks with a limp. But if he says he's fine, then he's fine. I nod at him. "Alright," I agree. "Just...call, if you need a break. I'll hear you."
"If I call, you better hurry your ass there," he says dryly. I'm not entirely sure he's joking. I go wolf and jog away.
*~*~*~*
My mind is foggy, and every part of my body hurts. I'm cradled against something, but I can't tell what it is. I smell spice and thunder, cedar. It's his smell. I can feel cotton against my cheek, a soft t-shirt. Less than a quarter aware of what I'm doing, I turn my head toward the material. The scent fills my nose. I crack my eyes open for just a second, and immediately regret it—the sun glares down at me, partly blocked out by a masculine head. I fade back into unconsciousness with amber eyes staring down at me.
*~*~*~*
Drew looks down at the passed out form in his arms. Her fudge-colored hair is tinted red in the sunlight, and her face is lit in a way that makes her look peaceful. She's much prettier asleep than awake and scowling at him. His chest thrums and he looks away. Damn it. His wounds get the itching feeling of healing. He can feel the one on her shoulder bleeding through her shirt. Fuck. He looks back down at her and swallows: her hair is in her face.
He gets to his house easily enough and lays her on the couch. Waiting for Calypso to get to his house, he collects the stuff he'll need: hot water, clean rags, bandages. He's experienced with this, and his body is conditioned to self-heal. She won't be able to do so for another few months at least. There's a knock on the door right as he sets a stool down beside her and he lets the huntress in. Calypso has a blue pixie cut and dark brown eyes. She holds out the med kits and looks to where the girl is laying on the couch. "She okay?"
"Fine," he answers, walking back to sit on the stool. "At least, she will be. I was careful where I hurt her. Nothing serious."
"Damn sure didn't sound like you were careful. What did you even do?" The huntress asks. He ducks his head.
"She was so focused on running away from Jared and all of you that the river didn't even occur to her. We know these mountains; she doesn't. I tackled her to the ground, and she lunged. I had to keep her occupied until Jared came to break up the fight. If I hadn't, she would've jumped into the river. That thing is so cold that her body would have gone into shock and just locked up. She could have drowned." He looks up at her. "Can you sneak into her house and get her some clothes, Cali? Or let her borrow some of yours."
She drops a backpack at his feet. "Here."
"Thanks." He grabs the scissors and cuts the sleeve open on her shoulder. Luckily, she has a tank-top on that hasn't yet been stained with blood, so he doesn't risk seeing anything he can't handle. Carefully, he pushes the fabric away and grabs a warm rag, gently dabbing it around the wound. "How's Jared and the rest?"
"Good. A little concerned, but that's expected. You two were..." She shakes her head. "You two were really going at it, Drew."
He shrugs. "Had to do something." Her scent is tinged with blood and dirt. It makes it easier to deal with, but even if he breathes through his nose, there's no urge to claim. It's a relief from the past few days where any second of seeing her put his entire body into a frenzy. Right now, he had to take care of her. It's one time in almost a week that his mind and his body have agreed. "Did Jared get any information on her?"
"Her real name is Lyrah Tobiano. She's adopted; the woman she lives with now is human. We don't know anything else, but she apparently comes from a powerful bloodline—she shifted in three hours," The council member answers as he walks in. "Are you doing okay?"
"If one more person asks me if I'm okay, I'm going to bite their head off," Drew growls. "I'm fine." Shylah stirs. He sighs. "Leave. I need to dress these wounds and I can't multi-task." Calypso hesitates. He looks at her. "I'm not asking, Cali. I'll call you if I need you. Jared, you too. Your hovering is driving me insane. Besides, I'm Alpha. When she wakes up, she's going to want answers. It's my job to answer them."
After another pause, they exit. Drew finishes cleaning her shoulder wound and puts a bandage on it. He pauses when she stirs again and brushes a stray lock of hair away from her face. Her features are smoothed out and relaxed, with long lashes and freckles peppered on her nose. "You are so difficult to understand," he murmurs.
*~*~*~*
When I wake up again, it's cool without being cold, and the pain in my shoulder, calf, and wrist have dulled to a faint ache. The sky is painted the faint pink and orange of a setting autumn sun. I look around. A soft, heavy comforter has been draped over me, a down pillow tucked under my head, and any bites or scratches I had have been cleaned and dressed. Clothes sit on a stool next to me, along with a tall glass of water. I sit up and flinch—my stomach hurts from landing on my side so many times.
"Yeah, J, I get that," I hear from down the hall. "Well, tell them I said so!" Drew walks out and turns, his back to me. He's shirtless, a pair of black shorts and socks composing his outfit. His back flexes as he throws a hand up and growls. "I have enough on my plate, Jared. I don't need this right now! If the council members want to meet her, then I have to ask her about it first. I'm not bringing her anywhere against her will!"
I blink in surprise. Obviously, the 'her' is me, but...why is he defending me? He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Fine. Fine, J. Just...give me some time." He hangs up and jams the phone into his pocket, turning. He stops when he sees me. "You're awake."
"Yeah," I say. I grab the water and take a sip. "What—were you talking about me?"
"Would it do any good if I said no?" He asks.
I shake my head. "No."
"Then yeah. There's clothes on the stool. Bathroom is down the hall and to the left. I'm making dinner right now, so if you're up to questions, we can talk after we eat."
I raise my eyebrow. "You're...wait. Why are you being so nice to me suddenly?" I haven't talked to him since day before yesterday, until we fought in the woods. "You hate me."
"I—" he gives a frustrated sigh. "I don't hate you. I can explain everything, if you want. But you have to change first. Your clothes are dirty and town. Plus, hot water gets rid of muscle cramps. We're shifters, but we're not invincible. And after last night, you're not going to be doing anything less you count walking like a wooden statue."
I nod and try to stand, but my vision dances and I sit back down, dizzy. He sighs and comes over, offering a hand. I stare at him until he raises an eyebrow. I do the same. "You corner me in fourth period the first day I meet you and tell me I reek. The next time I see you, you refuse to move so I can get to my locker and when I try to punch you, you pin me against my locker and demand that I apologize. The next few days after that, you ignore me, up until recently, when I turned into a wild dog. When you do see me, you tackle me to the ground and hurt me, but now, you patched me up, offered me food, answers, and a shower?"
He shrugs. "I can explain all that when you take a shower. I wasn't offering; I was telling you."
I eye him warily. "What the hell happened to you?" I ask. "First, you're feral, then you're nice. Keep it up and I may think you actually care." I take his offered hand and reach down to grab my clothes, but he doesn't release me. I look up. "Um, do you mind letting go?"
"You don't know the reasons behind my behavior," he says. "And I can understand it's confusing for you. But don't assume that you know me. You only see what I want you to see."
He lets go and turns away, striding to the kitchen. I swallow back a retort and limp to the bathroom. The warm water, as promised, loosens my stiff muscles and helps me relax. I change into the clothes—gray and black camouflage workout Capri's and a black tank top—and come out. The smell of food makes my stomach rumble. I lean my hip on the counter and watch him pace around the kitchen. He's swift and controlled, confident in his movements. I take in his focused gaze, the way his brow dips between his eyes in a focused frown, the way he seems at ease in the kitchen in a way he never did at school. He sports a white cotton shirt now, and I secretly whine at the loss. He's built, but not beefy. His arms are corded with muscle, his forearms lined lightly with veins that longed to be traced. His hair is wet and ragged, sticking up from being ran through with his hand too many times. He's broad-shouldered, his chest crafted out of smooth lines and sharp angles. His jawline is sharp, his eyes light.
"If you're done checking me out," he says without pausing in his intricate dance in the kitchen, "you can sit down on the couch. Dinner will be ready in a second."
My jaw goes slack. "I was not checking you out!"
He looks up then...and smiles. My next complaint vanishes, because while he was pretty hot when he was pissed off...he's drop-dead gorgeous when he smiles. Blushing, I look away and walk to the couch swearing up a storm in my head.
As promised, he comes in with two plates and two bottles of water in under three minutes. He hands one of each to me and I'm immediately in awe of what he cooked. A steak, beautifully browned and seasoned, and a salad that looks too good to eat. He doesn't wait for me to eat, just digs into his own plate.
I chew a test bite of steak. "Oh my God," I say. It melts in my mouth like butter, nice and juicy. He looks up.
"Good?" He asks. I nod.
"Yeah. Really good." I take a drink before continuing, "Okay. If I ask questions, will I get answers?"
"I told you that already," Drew says, shoveling another bite of salad into his mouth.
"Fair enough. What...am I?"
"Are we," he corrects. "The group you see me with every day at school are the same creature as I am, as you are. We're called shifters. On demand, we can change form between wolf and human. Calypso, the pixie hair cut is the dark gray huntress you saw last night. Jemma, and her brother Ryan are the redheads. Tyler and Josh, the blondes, are the others. And then there's me."
"How does that work? Is there a scientific explanation?"
He shrugs. "Kind of. Basically, the moon gives off energy that we call Lunac power. It soaks into the earth, into us, into everything. Most aren't effected by it, but a select few—like us—are built differently. We're channels, rather than black holes, and we can control the power enough to change our shape."
"Is there a reason we turn into wolves, rather than some other animal? Like, bats or snakes or horses? Why did I only change now? Wouldn't it have happened earlier?"
"Not really. Your first shift happens when your body decides it can handle the power. It's pretty much the shifter equivalent to human maturity. Usually, you shift into a pack, though. For example, mine. Our chemistry decided we were ready. I was first, though, because I'm Alpha."
I stop with a tomato speared on my fork half-way to my mouth. "You said--."
"That you reek of Alpha. Right. There's four ranks to a pack: Alpha, the highest. Beta, the second in command. The betas in my pack are Ty and Josh. Third are your hunter and huntresses. Those would be Jemma and Calypso. And then, low man on the totem pole, are the omegas. That would Ryan." He rolls his eyes as he says the name, but sobers after a second and studies me with a serious gaze. "You're a special case. Alpha's are usually male, for no other reason than we mature faster and are capable of handling more Lunac power at a time."
I rub my head. "Oh dear God, this is a lot to take in,'" I mumble, and throw my napkin onto my plate, finished eating. I eye him. "Okay, I have one more question."
He nods. "Shoot."
"What does all of this have to do with you being an asshole to me?"
He winces. "Right...Ah...Okay, so I'm Alpha. Alphas run the pack. But when you're a male Alpha, you go into something called a 'final shift'. It's the last shift before you earn something called your rights: the entitlement to take over ruling the pack completely. Until your final shift, you have to listen to the four council members, or they demote you to a lesser rank, which is kind of like being disowned. It sucks. But before you come into your final shift..." Drew looks away. "You have to find a mate."
"Excuse me?"
"Not—it's basically a girlfriend or boyfriend that you want to run the pack with. My final shift is coming up in four months. I have until then to find one and claim them."
I stand, grabbing my plate and bringing it to the kitchen.
"It's not what it sounds like. Okay, it's—it's exactly what it sounds like, but also not. You bite them somewhere, have them do the same in the same spot on you. There's a ritual that goes along with it, and you basically belong to each other. That doesn't mean you get to boss each other around. It's a partnership; the power goes both ways. You share minds when you shift, you feel each other's emotions. It's a two-way link." He clears his throat. "Because you're an Alpha as well, unclaimed, and female, my chemistry is trying to get me to claim you, since you're the perfect biological option for an Alpha coming into his final shift. I was a royal asshole to you because I was trying to get you to leave. Every time I'm around you, I'm fighting my body. And it gets stronger each time."
"Sorry," I mumble. "That doesn't sound pleasant."
He looks up at me. I avoid his gaze and turn away, gathering my clothes up and fighting back tears. "I should get going. Thank you, for...everything, I guess. Um...Okay." I turn to the door and open it. Why I'm so affected by this is unknown to me, but...it doesn't exactly feel good knowing that being around me causes him pain.
"Hey, wait a second. Shylah, hang on!" He stands and catches my wrist as I try to exit the house and tugs me back inside. His hand feels rough and warm. "I didn't say—"
"Let go, Drew," I say, and tug myself away. "I didn't know I was causing you pain. I'll stay away now. Sorry I've caused...all this. Thank you for dinner." I throw my backpack on my shoulders, turn, and run outside. I jump off the stairs and when I land, it's on all fours.
I don't stop running until I get home.