Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

I had to stop myself from howling a song of despair.

He said, “Richard said that it was my fault that it was happening. That if only I’d been a better son, if only I’d been a better boy, none of this would have happened. He said that they hated me because I wasn’t the Alpha they wanted. That I was too small. That I wasn’t a good wolf. That I didn’t deserve to be Alpha because I would cause the pack to break apart and everyone would die. And it would be my burden to carry.”

He sighed. “I don’t know if I can explain it, really. That feeling inside. The Alpha. I’m not one yet, but it’s close. It bubbles just below the surface. There are times when all I can think of is marking you so everyone knows who you belong to. To carve my name into your skin so you never forget me. To hide my family away so no one can ever hurt them. I have to protect what’s mine. Richard tried to take that away from me, and I think it made it worse. I don’t think he knew that he was making it worse.”

I said, “It’s not bad,” though I wasn’t sure if that was exactly right.

His eyes flashed at me in the dark, orange with flecks of red. His voice was a growl when he said, “I want your blood on my tongue. I want to break you open and crawl inside of you. I am a monster because of the things I could do to you that you wouldn’t be able to stop me from doing.” He looked away and took a calming breath. Another. And then another. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Dad knows this. Mom does too. It’

s why I go with him. To the middle of the woods. To learn control. For myself. For them. For you. Because he broke something in me. He made me this way. He made me want to be a monster, and I don’t always think I can stop it.”

I brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. “I’m not scared of you. I never have been.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Joe.” A hint of annoyance edged my voice.

“I would kill for you,” he said harshly. “If anyone tried to hurt you. I would kill them.”

I said, “I know,” and I said, “Because I would do the same for you.”

He laughed, and it was tinged with wolf, all snap and snarls. “I see him. Sometimes. When I close my eyes.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if that’ll ever go away.”

“I know that too.”

“And you still said yes?”

I said, “Yes,” and moved my hand in his hair again.

He sighed.

We watched the stars.

They were so much bigger than we could ever hope to be.

Someone told me once that the light we see from them is hundreds of thousands of years old. That the star could already be dead and we’d never know it because it still looked alive. I thought that was a terrible thing. That the stars could lie.

I said, “Are you scared?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. Then, “Of what?”

“Becoming the Alpha.”

“Maybe. Sometimes. I think I’ll do good, you know? And then I think that I won’t.”

“You’ll do good.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll help.” Because I would.

He was quiet for a while. “I didn’t think we’d get here.”

That hurt to hear. For the both of us. “I’m sorry.”