Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

He squeezed my neck and dropped his hand. “I won’t drop the wards,” he said. “Not completely. I’ll modify them, though. For Joe. Carter and Kelly.”

“And the rest of the pack,” I said.

He looked away. “Yeah, Ox. For the rest too.”

WE WERE having Sunday dinner for the first time at my house.

Mom was very nervous. She flitted about in the kitchen like a little bird.

I asked her why, and she said, “They’re just so fancy. We’re not fancy people, Ox.”

“They don’t care about stuff like that.”

“I know.”

“You look pretty,” I said. And she did. She always did. Even when she was tired. Even when she was sad.

She laughed and said, “Hush, you.” She swatted me with a dish towel and told me to make the salad while she checked on the lasagna.

Joe was the first through the door. His eyes darted around, taking in everything as quickly as he could. His chest heaved, breathing in as much as possible. His eyes were wide, almost blown out.

“Joe,” Thomas said, coming up behind him. “Calm. Even breaths.” I could hear the command in his voice, one that sent shivers along my skin. It was easier now to hear it for what it was. The Alpha. I wasn’t a wolf, but I still wanted to bare my neck to him.

“It’s a lot,” Joe said quietly, trying to slow his breathing. “All at once.”

I didn’t understand, but I thought I wasn’t meant to.

Elizabeth came in, followed by Carter, Kelly, and Mark. Mom chattered away, her nerves showing through in the up-and-down cadence of her voice. Either she didn’t notice or chose not to question when the Bennetts touched almost everything in sight, dragging their hands along the couch. The dining room table. The chairs. The countertops. Carter and Kelly sprawled along chairs at the table, spreading themselves out as far as possible.

I knew what they were doing. They were making this place smell like them. Like pack.

Scents were important. They didn’t want it to be just me and Mom. They needed to be mixed in too.

I hugged each of them in turn. Carter and Kelly rubbed their noses against my neck.

Joe took my hand. “Your room,” he said. “I want to see your room.”

He pulled me up the stairs without waiting for an answer. I didn’t even need to tell him where to go. He held out his other hand and let his fingers drift along the walls, head darting from side to side. He growled lowly for a brief moment and his hand tightened in mine. I didn’t ask what it was. I didn’t know if I wanted to know.

But then we were in my room and he was all over. He didn’t stand in one place for more than a second, and he touched everything he could get his hands on.

He muttered to himself, saying, “It’s strong in here, so strong, strong, strong” and “I can cover it up, I can make it go away” and “Mine, mine, mine.”

I let him. I let him do what he needed to do.

And then he stopped in front of my desk. Sucked in a sharp breath.

“Joe?” I asked, taking a step from the doorway.

“You kept it?”

“What?”

He didn’t answer. I stepped up behind him. He was getting taller. The top of his head reached the middle of my chest. I felt of pang of something bittersweet. I didn’t know why.

And then I saw what h

e was looking at.