Raised by Wolves
Page 14

And whatever it was, whatever he asked me for, I knew I’d say yes.
I met Callum halfway between Ali’s house and his, in an area of the forest where the trees thinned out and the ground leveled off in a semicircle. Tonight, the Crescent would be filled, our pack’s numbers spilling into the forest proper. Callum’s house was where the pack conducted its human business. Here, they were wolves, and I avoided this patch of land the same way I eschewed dominance scuffles, disapproving lectures, and werewolves like Marcus who would rather see me dead than claimed by their alpha.
“Bryn.” Callum greeted me with a single word and a slight smile. And then, without warning, he attacked. In a blur of motion, he was upon me, his leg snaking out to kick mine out from underneath me. Stunned, I moved entirely on instinct, twisting to angle my shoulder to the ground.
If you’re going to fall, it’s generally a good idea to control the way you do it. Using my own momentum, I rolled out of the fall, and instead of sprawling out on the forest floor, I bounced to my feet, my hands in loose fists, pulled tight to my chest. Automatically, I scanned the surrounding area for weapons. Holes into which I could trick my enemy into falling. Rocks that I might be able to crack a skull with. Sticks wide enough that I could channel Buffy and do the stake-through-the-heart routine, which was guaranteed to irritate a Were, but might also slow them down enough for me to get to higher ground.
Safer ground.
All of this happened in a fraction of a second—a half moment, or not even that. If I’d been thinking rationally, I would have realized that werewolf or not, official business or not, this was Callum, and I might have guessed that he was attacking me for a reason. I might have noticed that though he was going full speed, he’d pulled back to quarter strength, or less.
But I didn’t.
When a human fights a Were, she doesn’t have the luxury of thinking things through. You’re stuck in slow motion against an enemy who moves so quickly that your eyes can barely follow the movement. You don’t have time to think. You don’t even have time to react. You have to anticipate. You have to be ready. You have to react to the things your opponent hasn’t done yet, but will.
And you have to be lucky.
You’ve been very lucky, Bryn. That doesn’t mean you have to press your luck.
Ali might have seen things differently, but at the moment, I would have sworn that I wasn’t pressing anything. It was pressing me.
Callum feinted left, but I was already moving the other direction and backward, and when his hand reached out to knock me to the ground, I’d already jumped. His blow threw me off center, but I managed to catch the limb I’d been aiming for anyway, and swung myself—slightly lopsided—up to stand on the branch.
As fast and strong and darn-near-invincible as they seem, werewolves aren’t much for climbing trees. Their bones are denser than humans, and they don’t have preternatural balance to go along with their stealth. Callum wasn’t quite six feet tall, but he was muscular, male, and much heavier than I was, and there was no way this tree would support his weight.
For that matter, I had no guarantees that it would support mine for much longer, but beggars really couldn’t be choosers. And mid-morning snacks can’t afford to be finicky about the methods with which they attempt to avoid being eaten.
“You’re getting faster,” Callum said, “but you need to be more aware of your surroundings.” And with those words, he shot into another blur of motion, running up onto a nearby stone and catapulting himself off it.
Incoming werewolf, zeroing in on me like a missile. Not a good thing. Not a good thing at—
“Ooomph.” Callum tackled me off my perch. I braced myself for contact with the ground, but at the last second, he twisted, putting his body in between mine and the ground, cushioning my fall.
Thankful for the reprieve, I nonetheless elbowed him in the gut, somersaulted forward and out of his grasp, and threw a rock at his head before I even realized I’d armed myself.
He caught the rock and smiled. “Good girl.”
The tension melted off his body, and his posture changed utterly, a signal meant to tell me that this portion of our little meet and greet was over.
“Forgive me if I’m skeptical,” I said, and like magic, I had more rocks in each of my hands.
“The only way I wouldn’t forgive you is if you weren’t,” he said, and moving with a speed that fell more into the realm of impressively human than typically Were, he managed to disarm me completely, and he chucked me under the chin.
“You’re a strong, smart girl, Bryn, but it’s not enough. You’ve been slacking on your training.”
If by “slacking,” he meant “up at dawn every day for my entire life going through katas and self-defense moves and running like I’m prepping for a triathalon.”
“If you want to see the boy, you’ll have to do better.”
And there it was: the first condition. I wondered if Callum’s attack had been a test, if there was anything I could have done that might have convinced him that I was ready to see Chase now, or if he was just using my unusual willingness to comply with his wishes as an excuse to achieve a cog in some master plan. If the next condition involved me acing algebra, I was going to be very suspicious.
“I’ll do whatever I need to do.” I gave Callum a look that I hoped conveyed “you know I mean it,” with shades of “don’t toy with me.”
“You’ll see Chase once you’ve convinced me that you can defend yourself from him should things get out of hand. Until then, I’ll expect you to double your normal training regimen, and I want you sparring with partners of my choice on a regular basis.”
The idea of fighting someone who wasn’t Callum didn’t sit well with me. I would have been lying if I said that I’d never fought anyone else—I had, on occasion, handed touchy, grabby humans their butts on a variety of platters, but I was too smart to go around fighting Weres.
Besides Callum, there were only a few that I’d tangled with physically, even as practice, and I tried not to think about what it would be like fighting someone who I trusted less than Callum.
“Consider it done,” I said out loud. “What else?”
We weren’t exactly using the formal language of permissions and conditions, but we were both on edge—Callum because sparring under the influence of moonlust was no walk in the park, and me because being sparred with by a werewolf under the influence of moonlust sent a cold chill down the length of my spine.
Come out, come out, wherever you are. …
“In addition to increasing your training regimen, I have four conditions for the permissions you seek.” Callum transitioned to alpha-speak, and I could feel the formality of it building a barrier between us.
“I’m prepared to hear your conditions, Alpha.”
My words, every bit as formal as his, solidified the wall that held us apart, and if this hadn’t been so important to me, that would have forced me to crumble. Losing Callum, even for a second, was worse than any condition he could possibly lay down.
Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time.
“Once I deem you ready for your visitation or visitations—the number and times of which will be set in accordance with me—I’ll select three members of the pack to accompany you and serve as chaperones.”
Chaperones … or bodyguards? It was so like Callum to insist that I kill myself preparing for defensive maneuvers that he had no intention of ever allowing me to make.
“You will not see Chase with fewer than three members of the pack present, and during the course of your visitation, you will yield to their dominance on all matters.”
Dominance. I hated the word. I hated everything it represented, and in that moment, I hated Callum for forcing it on me. The idea of letting three random Weres tell me what to do, of submitting to them in all things without an argument, made me consider blowing real chunky chunks right there on the spot.
“You’re selecting the members of the pack to whom I have to submit,” I said, restating his words as my own.
Callum didn’t reply to the question in my voice, or say anything to assuage my reluctance. Instead, he just stood there, looking at me from the other side of that invisible wall.