He took in a great breath and let it out slowly.
Taking in the scent of the territory.
Of this house.
Of me.
I wondered if he could tell that I hadn’t spent more than a few hours here since he’d left.
I wondered if he could still smell the blood of my mother.
He didn’t speak.
He took another step forward. And another. And another, until he was standing in front of the door.
He didn’t knock.
He didn’t touch the doorknob.
Instead, the door jerked slightly as he turned and leaned against it, sliding down like I’d done.
He sat on the other side, our backs separated by three inches of oak.
It wasn’t very long before our breaths and hearts were in sync with each other.
I tried to fight it. To stop it.
It didn’t work.
I hated the peace I felt. The relief, the goddamned green relief that bowled over me, as if I ever really stood a chance against it. I held on to my anger as hard as I could.
He stayed until I fell asleep.
I WOKE as morning sunlight filtered in through the windows.
I was warm and had a crick in my neck.
I opened my eyes.
I was still sitting against the door. My back hurt.
Two wolves rested their heads on my thighs. They both opened their eyes as I did, as if they’d been waiting for me to wake.
A third wolf lay curled against my side, feet twitching as he dreamed.
Elizabeth. Mark.
Robbie.
The others were there.
Jessie was snoring softly, her arms wrapped around one of my legs.
Tanner, Rico, and Chris were sprawled out around me, each with a hand touching me somehow. My foot. My hand. My stomach.
No one else.
Joe wasn’t against the door.