Behind the Beginning (Becoming the Wolf Book 1), Page 3

  Other than someone occasionally adjusting their shoe against the carpet or the rustle of fabric as they crossed and uncrossed their arms, silence filled the dining room while he ate. As he moved onto the okra, Brent began to gather leftovers on a plate in the kitchen, and eventually joined him at the other end of the table. Grey slowed as one by one, the pack members reheated food and ate around him. The sounds of eating replaced the quiet and, by the time he’d finished the last bite, the soft murmur of conversation hummed in the air. Talk of day jobs and an upcoming hunt. Marissa sat glued to her corner, but the rest ate beside him as if he wasn’t a lion among the flock of sheep. And as minutes ticked on, he worried less about the changing color of his eyes and the ready snarl in his throat. It was kind of nice just to sit and be. To be around others he didn’t have to hide from. He had no fear of them judging his new crazy, split-personality, dangerous, rabbit-eating self. They were the same. Eating with others of his kind made Wolf happier; still ready to fight, but he was coming to realize perhaps wolves weren’t solitary creatures. With every passing minute, the tension between his shoulders eased slightly.

  As Grey folded his napkin and placed it carefully over the empty plate in front of him, Dean began again. “Greyson, you’re a dominant, and even if you aren’t in control right now, your wolf was made to lead. To have a pack under him. I need to know what your intentions are. Will you issue a challenge for my pack?”

  Rachel snapped her attention to her mate from where she sat eating beside him. “Dean!” Her eyes were intense as she shook her head and whispered, “Don’t do this.”

  A preternatural silence came over the house as Dean ignored his mate and looked expectantly at Grey with bright, inhuman eyes.

  Greyson looked from Rachel to Dean, finished chewing his last bite and leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms over his chest. The chair creaked noisily as he leaned back and relaxed his legs, drawing out his answer to let them squirm.

  This pack could be ours, Wolf said.

  We’d destroy this pack in a week, Grey argued. You would be the shittiest king.

  Well…touché, but also, so what?

  So, they seem like nice people.

  Wolf was unconcerned with such sentiments but did, however, concede that he didn’t want the responsibility. Not now, at least.

  “I don’t want your pack, Dean,” Grey said. “I just want to be left alone.”

  A subtle cloud of relief filled the room. This pack loved their alpha.

  “Okay, then you will remain a rogue wolf?” Dean asked. “You’ll have our permission to do so without any problem from us unless you threaten to expose our kind. I’d like to offer an invitation for you to join us on occasion, if we can put our dominance issues aside. A wolf needs community. We do a Full Moon Hunt every month and I would be willing to mentor you to help you gain control over your wolf. Hopefully that’ll make it easier for you to work together so you’ll be less of a danger to your neighbors.”

  Grey nodded in surprise. That was actually the nicest offer anyone had ever made him, werewolf or not. He wasn’t ready to shake hands quite yet, but if the alpha could try, so could he. It didn’t matter that he felt like attacking every last one of the Dallas Pack. The new strained and tentative alliance signified the beginning of a less tortured existence.

  Grey wasn’t alone anymore and suddenly, a great bulk of the weight he’d been dragging lifted.

  He could breathe again.

  Chapter Four

  Six months with Dean and still, Wolf hadn’t given an inch of control. The Dallas pack members had sworn up and down Grey would eventually learn to compromise with the beast he shared headspace with, but so far, all of their pants were in serious jeopardy of catching on fire. Small things had improved. He growled less at passing strangers. And he imagined ways to kill people at least three percent less, so that was a plus. It was still Wolf’s favorite past time by a lot, but Full Moon Hunts sated him a little. He guessed any improvement deserved a most-improved-werewolf trophy. These days, his life revolved around Full Moon Hunts. Wolf would let him feel in control of himself sometimes for two whole days afterward.

  The downfall to his new social life? Alexis.

  He pulled the hem of his jeans over the top of his work boot and sighed as he leaned back into his couch. The woman was incorrigible. He knew, because he’d discouraged every attempt she’d made at molesting him, each time with more fervor than the last. In his old life, he would have been flattered by such an attractive woman’s attentions. She wasn’t interested in him, though She was drawn to the dominance and potential power Wolf possessed. It didn’t take an intelligent man to figure out she saw him as a stepping stone to something more. What her end game was, he didn’t have a clue.

  Alexis stopped by his place unexpectedly and often now. He hated it, and Wolf howled for blood, making it difficult to be polite. A hollow, unexplainable loneliness had crept into his life over the past few months. Grey hadn’t been this desolate the first six months before he’d met the Dallas Pack, so why was he feeling this way after meeting them? It didn’t make any sense.

  Wolf only grew more intensely moody with time, but Alexis didn’t seem to care. She came by almost every day just to be rebuffed. Such a baffling woman. Brandon was obviously into her, so why wouldn’t she pester a wolf she actually stood a chance with?

  He couldn’t stand her. She was entitled and prissy, like princess werewolf out to get what she wanted. Dean had said he’d rarely seen a wolf more naturally dominant than Grey, and she was the type of woman who liked power. He got it, but dominance didn’t mean power for him. It made him crazy, and dangerous to other people. He could just as easily kill her as kiss her. She wasn’t that smart.

  The entire week had been an experiment in self-control. Wolf had grown bored and begun to think of new and different ways to kill things. It felt like all of the progress he’d made was going out the window. If a man walked home alone from the bar down the street late at night, Wolf would map out where they would chase him to, and how they would kill him. If they were man-eaters, of course.

  Wolf needed a hobby.

  At a loud knock on the door, he opened it. Think of the devil and she shall appear. Alexis stood there with a predator’s smile, leaning against the frame. She stank of cheap perfume and her bright red lipstick was caked on.

  Flatly, he said, “Go away.”

  He tried to shut the door on her, but she pushed past him and straight into his apartment, and shut the door herself. At the invasion to his territory, Wolf clawed his way to the surface. She turned around, ignoring his furious gaze, and closed the space between them. He backed up until his shoulders hit the door, and lifted his hands in the air, wanting nothing to do with her. Trapped. Panic snaked in his gut. He was fucking trapped.

  Her smile oozed with cockiness. He held himself perfectly still.

  “You can’t turn down a female forever, Greyson. It’s not in your nature,” she said as she leaned slowly forward. “You’re too dominant, and dominants have…needs.” Alexis pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  Wolf’s snarl froze in his throat at the shock. What. The. Actual fuck?

  When he wrapped his fingers roughly into the blond hair gathered at her nape, she gave a groan that turned into a growl, but he wasn’t doing that move for pleasure. He jerked her back, and moved out from in front of her. Wolf’s rage filled every cell in his body, and his hand ached to wrap around her throat. He could break her neck so easily and then she would leave him alone forever. So tempting, but not enough. Grey didn’t hurt women. “Get out,” he said, voice trembling with his rage. He took a step toward her and straightened up his spine, glared down his nose at her. “Never come back here.”

  Alexis’s eyes went round. Whatever she saw on his face scared her enough to get her moving. She spun and yanked open the door. He could hear her echoing steps as she bolted down the stairs.

  Aggravated and caged, he paced the room until he was su
re she was gone, and then he grabbed his keys off the hook by the door. He pulled a loose hoodie on, locked the door behind him and headed out for a cool down walk. Stupid Alexis. Her kiss had made him feel disgusted with himself. He felt dirty. And for what? He didn’t understand himself. Alexis was pretty, and wanted him. She was unattached, he was unattached…but for some reason he couldn’t understand, he hadn’t been interested in any woman since he’d turned werewolf.

  Five blocks of turmoil later, he was completely lost in thought when a familiar scent hit him like a cannon ball. Shocked, he skidded to a stop so fast, a woman who had been walking behind him ran straight into his back.

  “Watch it,” she said with a deep frown as she walked around.

  Ignoring her, Grey lifted his nose into the air and sniffed, but the smell was gone. He’d imagined it…right? Imagined that girl from the woods. It was just another fantasy. He had those often, where he would run into her somewhere.

  You didn’t imagine it, Wolf said excitedly. It was there. She’s close.

  Grey rolled his eyes and pulled his sunglasses out of his hoodie pocket, put them on to hide his eyes, which were probably bright gold right about now.

  I’m telling you, she’s here! Wolf snarled.

  Grey scented the air again, but there was just the smell of oil, humans, a trashcan a few yards away and French fries probably from one of the hole-in-the wall restaurants on this street.

  There was no scent out of the ordinary. He laughed darkly at himself, shook his head at his pathetic desperation, and kept walking, taking a right so he could make a wide loop around to the apartment.

  Old buildings of differing shades of gray jutted up from cracked sidewalks against the overcast sky. Pungent garbage bins dotted dirty alleys, and the homeless huddled under sheets of cardboard and tattered blankets as they caught afternoon naps. A stumbling woman in a much too short skirt tried to get his attention, and he crossed the street to avoid her. He emptied the change from his pocket into the cup a scruffy looking youth held out, and made a clucking sound against his teeth at the woman who screamed profanities from a second-floor window at her apparently unfaithful boyfriend begging forgiveness below. He’d seen this little show before. It seemed to be a weekly thing for them. A mangy tabby cat hissed from the shattered window of an abandoned building and he threw it a withering look just to feel the satisfaction of hearing its scared meow as it bolted away.

  And then out of nowhere, it hit him again. That scent. It was faint, but it was there. He stopped so fast, he nearly tripped. Now it was gone again. There one second and gone the next, as wind warning of an upcoming storm whipped around him. There it was again. He tried to follow the familiar scent but got turned around and lost it once more in the confusion of the alleyway scents. Then turned back the way he’d come and found it. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he jogged after it. Another six blocks, and it got stronger and more concentrated. People threw him concerned glances as he sniffed the air every few seconds, but he didn’t care. He rounded a corner and buckled his legs against the forward motion.

  There she was.

  Her.

  Morgan.

  The one he’d thought about so much after that night when everything had changed. He’d wondered if she was even still alive. Had the beast come back to finish them off without him there to defend them? Had she made it back home safely? If so, where was home? Surely, he would never see her again. Armed with only a first name, tracking her down had been impossible. He knew because he’d tried.

  She was heading into a rundown building across the street from where he stood.

  What was she doing on this side of town? Didn’t she know how dangerous it was?

  Her long, dark hair swung in a ponytail like a pendulum, and she wore yoga pants and a purple tank top. A gym bag hung from her shoulder. As she opened the door to the building, she glanced back enough for him to see her face. He flinched away, stung. He didn’t want to see her expression like that. Her eyes held a sadness that should never be on anyone’s face, much less on—

  My Morgan, Wolf whispered.

  His Morgan?

  A sign over the door read Boxing Classes. The wall facing him was made of large, dirty windows. With a little luck, she would pick a heavy bag near the back of the workout room so he could get a glimpse of her again.

  Disappointingly, she picked a spot near the middle and he only saw part of her between rows of hanging bags. She cloaked her hands with purple hand wraps as she made conversation with someone.

  She’s talking to another man, Wolf snarled. End him. Now.

  A man in high socks and a sweat band picked one of the bags near the window and worked it, swinging it enough to let Grey see who Morgan spoke to. An older lady smiled politely back at her.

  He sighed with relief. “Get a grip. She isn’t yours,” he muttered, followed by a growl as Wolf thoroughly disagreed.

  She pulled black boxing gloves over her hands and stretched before the instructor started class. Grey couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was graceful and strong for such a tiny woman. Though smaller than the others, she moved the bag as much as the taller students. She never smiled, never looked at the other students, never talked. For the next hour, her focus was intensely trained on the heavy bag she was pummeling.

  By the time the boxing class wrapped up, he’d worked himself into some serious anxiety. How could he approach her? What could he possibly say? Hey, remember me from the worst night of your life? I smelled you from down the street, and now tadaaa, I’m here. Don’t mind my gold eyes. They just mean I probably want to eat you. He sighed. What a freak he’d become. The fact that the foot traffic around him hadn’t called the cops on him yet was a small miracle.

  He shoved his sunglasses into place better to shield his unnatural eyes from the passersby. Let’s go get her, Wolf said.

  No. He had questions. What if she had a boyfriend? What if him being here scared her? How would he explain why she couldn’t see his eyes or why he kept growling, or why his moods shifted so wildly? Even if she didn’t care about any of that, he couldn’t have any kind of life with her, or with her kid. Yeah, he remembered the little toddler whimpering by their tent that night. Only a monster would put a kid around Wolf.

  He didn’t belong in her life. Hell, he didn’t belong in anyone’s life.

  He was dangerous. He’d never been more certain of anything, and Morgan and her child had been through enough. Now he was the same as the beast that terrorized their family. How could he parade his darker side in front of her? A werewolf just like him hurt her sister. There was no way to hide what he was. He couldn’t provide for her. He could protect her, but that was only necessary if she was around him, where danger claimed most of his life. She’d be safer around normal humans. Not him.

  Only the most selfish creature would approach her. Seeing her today would have to be enough. To keep her safe, to keep her baby safe, he would have to sacrifice talking to her again. He would have to be strong enough to go against Wolf’s wishes, and leave her alone.

  This is a bad neighborhood, Wolf pointed out. She’s not safe here.

  She can take care of herself.

  He began walking away, but Wolf forced his body to turn around and go back. He stepped jerkily, like a puppet with an untrained puppet master.

  “Mother…fucker…” Grey muttered, trying and failing to regain control of his body.

  Just make sure she gets to her car safe. You want to be a good human so bad? Be a…what’s it called? Gentleman. Be a gentleman. Conniving, beastly animal. Grey’s will faltered as he listened to the logic of the suggestion. Okay, he would just make sure she got safely to her car when she came out of her class. And maybe after any other classes she took as well. But that was all. He would simply have to figure out if she came her regularly and what her schedule was so he could make sure she was safe. All compelling excuses to see her again.

  Morgan left the building with the older lady, and Grey froze,
then melted into a doorway because it had good shadows to hide in. Shadows? He was pretty sure there was a special place in hell for creepers.

  Unintentional eavesdropping had been one of the more inconvenient of his new abilities. Others couldn’t know anyone was listening or that their drivel-filled conversations and mutterings bounced around in his head all day. And sometimes into the late-night hours, thanks to a pesky neighbor with a boyfriend in a different time zone. They liked to have phone sex. It was literal torture for him. Not even earplugs worked to drown out that mess. Superior hearing had become obnoxious but here, surrounded by dilapidated brick buildings and impatient honking horns of the working class on lunch break, he’d found a use for it at last.

  Morgan halted and said a goodbye to her friend. “Okay I’ll see you next Tuesday,” Morgan said with the cutest damn wave in the universe, then jogged off to the parking lot out back. The other lady crossed the street and headed straight for him.

  He dropped his gaze as if he hadn’t been spying on their class, but the woman gave him a dirty look nonetheless. He was being too obvious and would need to find a better place to stalk her from. In a steady arc, he followed Morgan with his gaze to the parking lot, where she climbed into an old black F-150 truck and pulled away.

  Part of him panicked. What if she didn’t come next Tuesday and he never saw her again? Desperation drove him to run across the street to the boxing gym. As he came in, a bell above the door rang. He strode to the counter. Okay, now what? How was he going to get her last name without sounding like a stalker?

  The man behind the counter asked, “Can I help you?”

  “Uhhh, I wanted to ask about joining your gym,” Grey said, searching the room for inspiration. He was a terrible liar. There, on the counter lay a sign-in sheet. He scanned it quickly as the man behind the counter droned on about membership fees and what they’d include.

  Morgan Carter. Her name was third from the bottom. He thanked the man and left. The grin on his face couldn’t be contained. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d smiled or laughed. Certainly, he hadn’t as a werewolf. This had been the best day since his transformation, and he nodded with acute satisfaction.