The Lone Wolf's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #3)(87)

My wolf herds her toward the furthest den where my grandparents lived when I was very young, before Declan Kelly forced them down to the camp to live most of their time in their human skins and abandon the old ways. The memories are so old that they don’t seem like mine, more like a dream I had once and half remember.

I loved it up here. During the day, we’d run the woods, hunting and tracking, and at night, I’d curl up between my grandparents in a pile of packmates and pass out with my head on a furry flank and meaty breath in my face.

That was a long time ago.

I urge Mari inside, and she’s keen enough to go. The entrance is low, but the cavern opens up, and there’s enough light filtering through the opening and cracks in the roof for our wolves to see.

In my grandparent’s day, tapestries hung on the walls and woven mats lined the stone floors. Now, it’s bare except for plastic bins shoved against the walls filled with blankets for building nests. Some packmates still come up here to mate. They think it’s good luck.

Is that why my wolf brought her here?

No. Don’t try it. You’ll scare her. Take her home.

Ignoring me, my wolf takes off for the back of the cavern, rumbling for Mari’s wolf to follow. She does, obedient in a way I’ve never seen her human self be. When we get far enough from the mouth that all natural light fades, the tunnels begin to glow with light from the bare bulbs Killian’s had strung up along the walls so that no adventuresome pups get lost.

When I hear the drips, I know where he’s taking her. The pool. My grandmother would bring me down here when I was beginning to wear on the other elders’ nerves. I thought it was magic, a pool so deep underground, perfectly clear and still and cool, the stalactites hanging down like moonstone curtains.

As soon as Mari’s wolf catches sight of the water, she dashes for it, losing her footing, her claws skittering over the smooth rock floor. She lifts her paws to the side, tail flicking back and forth, and yips at me over her shoulder to join her.

My wolf stalks over to her, much more nonchalant than he feels inside. He’s amped up. Totally stoked. He lifts himself next to her. They both gaze into the pool, watching their pants ripple the water. Mari’s wolf leans over, lowering her muzzle to take a closer sniff.

Without warning, my wolf takes a paw and bats the surface, splashing Mari’s wolf in the snout. For a second, she blinks at him, water dripping from her small black nose, betrayal in her big, round eyes.

My wolf is immediately horrified by what he’s done. He actually seems to be considering handing back our skin. He’s drawing back when Mari’s wolf lets out an indignant yip and scrambles up and over the side, toppling into the pool with flailing limbs and yelps. She immediately begins to shake her coat, sending a spray of water in all directions, including my wolf’s. He opens his mouth to howl a warning and gets a cold, wet mouthful.

Again, I brace myself, squeeze the reins, but I don’t pull, not quite yet.

He raises his head, howls to the high ceiling, and then he leaps into the pool, straight over Mari’s wolf, even skinnier now that she’s sopping wet, and lands with a huge kerplunk, drenching the little white wolf huddling against the side of the pool. She sneezes and shakes her muzzle.

He stands stock still. The water is halfway up his legs. It skims her chin.

He lowers himself to his belly.

She narrows her eyes.

He sinks further under until the water comes just below his nostrils.

She gives herself another vigorous shake and sets off toward me, her paws slipping. She goes under twice before she makes it to my wolf to give him a nip on the shoulder out of principle. My wolf takes it without batting an eye, stretching his back legs so he’s even lower, and like she’s reading his mind, Mari’s wolf scrambles up his side and splays herself across his back, tucking her nose into the crook of his neck.

She yips in his ear. Like a huge aquatic animal, he launches himself forward, floating across the pool. She wriggles until she makes herself comfortable, and then she lets a paw fall into the water to skim the surface. The vibration in her chest hums against my wolf’s spine. He makes slow, lazy circles while she lounges, and in the elsewhere that I’m consigned to when he takes our skin, I hold my breath.

He’s never been like this before. Content. Happy. At peace.

Eventually, Mari’s wolf gets restless. She nips my wolf’s shoulder, and he makes his way back to the edge, pulling up parallel so she can clamber out without getting wet again. He follows her out.

The wolves shake out their fur, and then they sit back on their haunches, considering each other. Mari’s wolf’s neck is arched back; my wolf’s is curved down. Their eyes meet. It’s silent deep in the cave, but it doesn’t feel lonely. It feels secluded. Like nothing else exists but us. Nothing threatens.

My wolf relaxes, sinking to his belly.

And then, out of nowhere, with no warning, like a crack of thunder on a clear summer night or an earthquake, Mari’s wolf changes.

She rises, her back legs elongating, spine snapping, her muzzle receding. White fur becomes pink flesh. She reaches out a trembling hand, palm up, her soft mouth curving, tentative, hopeful.

An unholy scream bellows from my wolf’s throat.

Terror seizes my heart. It stops mid-beat.

I don’t pull the reins. I explode from my wolf’s skin, render the muscle, shatter his bones. Staggering, brain roaring, I heave my body away from Mari’s soft, trembling skin and sprint for the exit, as fast and as far as my splintered legs can go.