Magic Side: Wolf Bound Complete Series: Books 1-4, page 77
Jaxson stood atop the tiered limestone seawall, still in wolf form. His head was cocked curiously to the side.
Behind him, the rest of the pack was staring down at me with befuddled expressions. I whipped my head around in all directions. I was alone in the water.
Oh, goddamn it.
Nobody else had jumped in. Of course, they hadn’t. Wolves hated water. Some jerk had just made an ass out of me.
Jaxson descended the tiers and shifted effortlessly into human form. Why was it so awkward for me when he could do it so gracefully, like pouring whiskey into a glass?
He crouched down, completely unconcerned that he was stark naked in front of me. And his casual unconcern made it unbearably hot.
The faint light glinted over his muscles and left dark shadows that set fire to my imagination. He was a study in contrast, every curve of his body, traced in light and darkness. I wasn’t sure I could breathe, and it took all my strength to train my eyes on his.
“What are you doing in there?” Jaxson asked, his voice low and amused.
Well, that broke the spell.
I bared my teeth, barely able to repress my frustration long enough to talk. “Someone told me that everyone jumped in the water at the end. That the first one in was the winner.”
“But…werewolves hate water.”
“I know that!” I hissed.
Jaxson narrowed his eyes, rose, and turned back to the pack. “Whose idea was this?”
His roar reverberated across the stones, and all the wolves hung their heads with shame. I felt his alpha power wash over me like a thunderclap, and even I suddenly felt guilty for what had happened. Power and anger radiated off him in waves, and the air grew heavy and hard to breathe.
He loomed naked above me like a colossal statue of a Greek god, draped in robes of soft shadows. The view was frankly amazing, if abjectly intimidating.
Whoever sculpted those buns was a true master of their art.
Jaxson’s head whipped back at me, and his eyebrows rose.
Oh, God.
Had I directed that thought at my wolf or Jaxson? Or had he just caught the scent of my desire? Dread filled my veins, and I let myself sink down as low as possible in the water.
He turned back as the pack parted, and a silver-white wolf groveled his way forward over the grass onto the stones. Jaxson ascended a level and glared down at him. “Is this your idea of a joke? To isolate and trick a new pack member?”
The silver wolf whimpered, and the tenor of Jaxson’s voice set my stomach churning. I reached out. “Jaxson, it’s okay. I like swimming! It was just a joke, and I probably misunderstood. I’m going to get out. Don’t wor—”
He held out his hand to quiet me, then addressed the pack. “This is a good lesson to us all. The run is not about winning or being first. It’s about running with your alpha, running together as a pack. We are one, tonight and every night. We don’t turn on each other. We don’t take advantage of each other. Savannah is as much a part of this pack as any of you, and it is your duty to guide her on this journey.”
A few yips of solidarity erupted from around the pack, and Jaxson glared down at the silver wolf, deciding what to do.
I could feel the tension in the air. The whole pack was braced. Most had surmised by now that Jaxson had chosen me, which meant Blondie had just fucked with the alpha’s mate.
There was a sudden blur as a brown wolf raced forward, bounded down the steps, and leapt out over my head. It hit the water with a yelp and a sudden splash.
I wiped the water from my eyes, and seconds later, Sam’s grinning face popped up out of the water. “Man, that’s cold!”
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
But rather than respond to me, she turned to Jax. “I’m surprised you’re willing to settle for third place.”
His mouth opened, and surprise flooded his face. One of the wolves on the shoreline looked up at him and down at us, then plunged into the water. Sam cocked her head. “Fourth, then?”
Jaxson frowned. “But it’s not a race…”
A few splashes echoed from further down the seawall, and Sam gave me a wink. “Not even top ten?”
My heart leapt with every splash around me. I’d been alone. A fool. And suddenly, Sam was here at my side.
Jax looked down at the woebegone wolf before him and picked it up by the scruff. “Fine. It seems like we’re all going for a swim, per your suggestion. Therefore, you get to be the last one out.”
Then, with an enormous heave, Jaxson hurled the hapless creature skyward and out into the lake.
He smiled warmly down at me as more wolves plunged into the lake all around us. “It seems you’ve started a new tradition.”
He crouched, and then, with a powerful leap, he cannonballed himself into the air, spinning head over heels. Before I could react, he slammed into the water with a splash that washed me shoreward. Sam was cackling and trying to wipe the water out of her eyes.
Following Jaxson, the whole pack flooded into the dark, cool waters of Lake Michigan. Howls and hoots erupted around me.
Laughing as Sam splashed me, I whipped my head around, searching for Jax. He was nowhere.
Powerful hands grabbed me from below and thrust me into the dark sky. My subsequent unacrobatic bellyflop cut my surprised scream short.
I kicked my way back to the surface and found Jaxson watching with a wicked grin.
“You bastard,” I snarled playfully as I leapt at him. He evaded me with ease, and Sam laughed.
She wasn’t as fast as Jax or prepared for me to turn on her, and she let out a surprised squeak as I shoved her under the water. When she popped back up, she was laughing even harder than before. All around us, werewolves were playing in the water, wrestling, swimming, and doing flips off the seawall.
It was like a raucous adults-only pool party. Everyone was wet and naked, and having a good time.
It was perhaps the craziest thing I’d ever done—skinny-dipping with werewolves. But somehow, for the first time in almost a month, I felt inexplicably normal.
25
Savannah
Twenty minutes later, everyone was cold, sodden, and in desperate need of towels and a warm bath. Lake Michigan, even in the late summer, was pretty chilly.
I wrapped my arms around myself and looked at Sam, teeth chattering. “I think maybe we should have thought this through—no towels.”
“You’re the towel. Just get out, shift, and shake off. They’ve got the bonfire going, so we can dry by that.”
Bonfire? Oh, right.
I sniffed the air, which was redolent with the scent of burning wood. Several types. Elm and maple?
Man, my senses were getting better, or at least more finely tuned.
Sam heaved her naked ass out of the water and quickly shifted. I glanced up apprehensively at the wolf. The water was cold, but there was a bit of a breeze, and Sam looked pretty bedraggled.
She gave me a devilish look and shook herself off, spraying me with a shower of icy droplets. I screamed and dropped back down in the water—which, granted, made no sense, but somehow, drops on exposed skin felt a lot worse than the lake itself.
Jaxson swam over. “You okay?”
I dipped down to my chin in the water out of instinct. “Cold. Just trying to decide if I’d rather face the night air and shifting again or die of hypothermia.”
He chuckled. “I’ll help you shift.”
“I hate how easy you make it. Why can’t it be natural?”
“It will be. With practice.”
I sighed and looked at the shore.
Jax coughed. “I’m sorry about Eric—the silver wolf. That was a nasty trick to play on you on your first run.”
“Don’t worry about it. This was actually a lot of fun. And I don’t think he meant for this to happen.”
“It won’t happen again. My wolves will respect you.”
I shook my head, remembering the way Regina had spoken to me. “I’d rather earn it than you command it, Jax.”
“I have no doubt that you will.” He heaved himself halfway out of the water and looked back with a wry smile. “Especially now that you’ve beaten the alpha in a race.”
I put my hand over my face. “I’m not going to live this down, am I?”
“Not a chance. Now get out. It’s past time to gather at the bonfire.” Jaxson leapt up onto the stone, and in a single fluid motion, he shifted into a wolf again.
I was sad not to have a longer view.
I’m perfectly happy, Wolfie chirped.
Fair enough. I admired the massive silver and brown wolf out of the corner of my eyes. His fur practically shone in the starlight. To be fair, he was a damn fine-looking wolf.
Was I really thinking of a wolf as attractive? Shaking my head at how far down the rabbit hole I’d fallen, I clambered out of the lake, and then, with Jaxson’s help, I shifted.
A quick shake sprayed water in a fine mist around us. Unfortunately, I was still pretty damp and chilled to the bone.
Jaxson gave me a look. Let’s go.
Instead, my wolf glanced out at the lake as more werewolves climbed out and shifted. Give me a minute.
Jax followed my gaze to the pale blond man treading water at the back of the pack. The douche who had tricked me—Eric, apparently.
Jaxson grunted. Find me when you’re done.
I waited until Eric was the only one left and padded down to the shore.
He looked up guiltily from the edge of the seawall. “I’m really sorry, Savannah, I was just joking around. I didn’t think you would take me seriously or be able to keep up—”
My wolf put our paw on his forehead and gently but firmly pushed him down into the water.
“I won’t do it again, it was poor judg—”
There was a brief gurgle as his head plunged beneath the gentle waves. When she let him back up, she—we—gave him the look.
Blondie froze.
I’d never really understood the look and its effect on people. It was just something I’d had growing up. But I knew it for what it was now: weird-ass wolf voodoo.
I guess it always had been. At least I knew exactly what to do to put him in his place.
He slunk down in the water to the level of his chin. “I think I’m going to wait here in the water a little longer.”
We nodded, removed our paw from his head, and sauntered off.
There were a few large fires burning further along the point, and we padded toward them across the dark grass.
Jaxson was waiting, as was Sam. Werewolves were everywhere. The pack had formed a ring around a pair of roaring bonfires. Most were lounging around in wolf form, though a few were still human.
Beyond the fire, three burly werewolves stood in the shadows of the trees—Jaxson’s guards. I got the sense they were watching for interlopers. Apparently, this was a werewolf-only event. Not that anyone—well, other than Casey—would be crazy enough to barge in on a pack of wolves.
A pang of loss cut through me, and suddenly, everything I’d gained seemed a little hollow.
The look of horror on Casey’s face had wounded me just as deeply as the Soul Knife had. Would that cut heal with time or remain oozing and dripping?
Your crazy cousin will probably come around, Wolfie said, somewhat reluctantly.
In my heart, I knew she was right. Casey wasn’t entirely lost to me. But I knew our relationship would never be the same. Not after what I’d done to his mother. Not with what I was. He might hold his tongue, but I would always know what his beliefs were.
Maybe, with time, my aunt and uncle would even accept me. But there would always be prejudice, a desire to cure me and bind my wolf and turn back time so that things were like they once were.
That was one thing I knew I could never let happen.
Damn straight, sister, Wolfie said.
Jaxson led me toward the fire. Sitting werewolves rose and moved out of our way as we approached, clearing a spot for us close to the flames. I felt self-conscious walking beside Jaxson. He loomed over me, and every step betrayed his power. No wonder they all treated him like a king.
My earlier confidence left me, and I felt like an imposter, a hanger-on. At least it would get me a spot by the fire, and I wasn’t too proud to take it.
We flopped down and basked in the warm glow of the hypnotic flames, and I breathed deeply as the heat began to work its way in beneath my skin. My front was too warm, and my back was too cold, but my wolf and I gave a collective sigh of relief.
After a moment of basking, the hair on my back rose. I glanced behind me. Jaxson was staring back, devouring me with his golden eyes. I couldn’t quite discern his expression, but I got the sense that he hadn’t been able to look away since we’d arrived.
My wolf rolled lazily to the side and stretched out for his benefit. Do you do this every time the pack runs? I asked, using that strange not-quite-telepathy that we shared.
Jaxson gave me a wry look. Not the swimming part.
With a huff of feigned annoyance, I turned my attention to the wolves around us. Those in human form were chatting in low, almost expectant voices. Most were in wolf form—six or seven dozen, in every size and fur color imaginable.
These were my people now, but they weren’t family. Not yet.
The murmur of voices stilled as an expectant hush filled the air. The wolves on the far side of the circle rose and parted as an old woman with a walking stick shuffled out of the shadows and into the firelight. She walked to a spot between the flames and bowed her head to Jaxson. “Alpha.”
Jaxson bowed his head in turn. Grandmother.
She brandished her stick at him. “My grandchildren can call me that. You can’t. Makes me feel old and decrepit. It’s ‘Loremaster.’ My stories are old, not me.”
Something about the exchange told me that it had all been said before. That this, as much as anything, was part of a well-worn ritual.
The loremaster sniffed and gave a filthy look at two shifters whispering on the far side of the circle. She pointed her walking stick. “The gods, bless their teeth, gave us all two forms. One is for talking, while the other is for listening. Which should you be in?”
The couple looked sheepishly at each other, and in a swirl of magic, they transformed into a pair of wolves. The remaining shifters did so as well until after a few moments, the pack was only wolves and one old woman.
She jabbed her walking stick into the ground. “Now is the time for me to talk and for you all to listen. You’re here for a story. But what should I tell?”
A few wolves yipped, though I couldn’t understand what it meant.
The loremaster shook her head, waving her hand. “No, no, those won’t do. I’ve told the story of the Wolf Queen too many times already, and the others aren’t right for a night like tonight.”
She turned to me. The firelight—or perhaps something else—glinted in her eyes. “We have a new wolf among us. We’ll let her decide.”
The ancient woman leaned on her cane as she made her way over to me.
I lowered my head onto my paws and looked around, unsure of what to do. I didn’t know how to speak in wolf, and I didn’t know any wolf stories.
“Bah.” She scoffed. “Of course you do. You might not have grown up in this pack, but you know the stories, if not by their name. The stories are part of us. They make us who we are.”
I blinked in surprise. Apparently, the loremaster could read my thoughts.
The old woman scrunched up her face as she studied mine, then straightened as her expression fell into shadow. “Oh. I see. That story.”
I looked at Jaxson, my head spinning. But I didn’t ask for anything! Or even think it!
The loremaster laughed and waved her hand as she walked back over to the fire. “You don’t need to say anything to ask for a story, silly pup. Your eyes are saying it, your body is saying it, you’re begging for it with every movement you make. I know the story you crave.”
She turned to the assembled werewolves and raised her hands. “I have been asked for a story.”
Silence. Instant, utter silence. Jaxson commanded attention like a general, a king. But this woman demanded absolute stillness with her words—like an actor standing before the opening curtain, the audience hanging in the moment. No one spoke. No one even breathed.
What story had I chosen? The hair on my back rose, and my chest constricted as a slow dread filled me.
The loremaster’s words cut through the air as she haltingly circled the fire. “Our new wolf has asked for a very old story, a story that I have not told for a long time. We are the stories that we tell ourselves. Some we do not like to speak aloud, but we must tell them all the same.”
She spun and looked directly at me with eyes that burned with bright red flames.
“Tonight, I tell the story of the Dark Wolf God.”
26
Savannah
“It is fitting that there is no moon to watch over us, for she would be jealous of us speaking of her old lover,” the loremaster said as she spread her hands wide and began to walk around the circle of gathered wolves.
As her words thrummed in the air, the bonfire grew larger, and the wolves around me shrank, until all that was left in the darkness was the loremaster, the fire, and her voice.
“Once,” she continued, “Moon and the Dark God were lovers.”
The fire rose, and the image of two people appeared in the curling flames: a woman in a long silver dress and a man shrouded in black.
“Their nights and days knew no boundaries, and they lost themselves to each other beneath the sky.”
My pulse quickened as the loremaster’s story unfolded before my eyes—Moon and the Dark God weren’t just lovers, but passionate and wild. They came together with feral heat, their skin soaked with sweat and their bodies tense and quivering with need. They growled and fought and rutted like animals until their lust was spent and they could no longer move.
I could feel their hunger and taste their passion—a heady mix of earth, salt, and raw musk—and I suddenly found myself completely drunk. The vision was so real and visceral in my mind that my own need awoke, summoning the moisture of my body and leaving me hungry with desire.
