Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

Richard howled in triumph.

“Joe,” I said. “You have to—”

Joe’s claws were out before I could finish, black and sharp. The barrier flickered as he brought them down to his father’s chest, above his heart, fingers spread to five sharp points.

Voice a-tremble, Joe said, “Do you remember? That day in the woods. We chased the squirrels. And you told me you were happy I was your son.”

Thomas smiled his quiet smile. “I love you too.”

Joe pierced his father’s chest.

The world was a large and scary place. That’s what Gordo had taught me. That anything I could think of was probably out there. There were questions I didn’t ask because I was scared of the answers I would get. There were questions I hadn’t thought to ask, but whose answers were kept secret from me anyway.

And then there were questions I wasn’t even prepared to understand. Why did my father leave? Why did Joe choose me? What was my place in all of this?

How would Joe become the Alpha?

He knew. He knew, because he didn’t hesitate. Not at this. Not when his mind was made up. I wondered when Thomas had told him. Or if it was instinct. Something simply known from the past to the future.

His claws went into his father’s skin, pressing down until his palm was flat against Thomas’s chest. Richard screamed his fury, and at first nothing happened. I thought maybe something had gone wrong. Truth was, I didn’t know what to expect, transferring the power of an Alpha from one to another.

I still didn’t know jack shit about werewolves.

It started with a tingle along my skin.

Like a whisper in my ear.

Joe didn’t move.

Thomas didn’t move.

But then my skin was crawling. There was a surge in my head and heart, and I wondered if this is what it felt like to be lightning-struck. The pack bonds were bursting in my chest and I could feel them all, every single one of them, and there was a poignant relief, so greengreengreen because they were alive, all of them, but it hurt because Carter’s was strong and Mark’s, and Elizabeth and Kelly and Gordo (because he was there too, for the first time like pack and I could taste his magic at the back of my tongue, ozone-tinged and bitter).

And Joe, Joe was the brightest out of all of them, the strongest, and there was such power there that I could barely breathe.

And Thomas.

Thomas was there too.

But his was faded. The thread was thin.

Weaker than it had any right to be.

Like it was barely hanging on.

The barrier snapped back into place.

Thomas opened his eyes. They flashed orange and dull.

He sighed in such green relief.

He said, “Ox. A wolf is only as strong as its tether.”

His eyes closed.

He exhaled.

His chest did not rise again.