I considered. As a young boy, I had certainly cared. I’d fought to preserve my right to be left alone. And most of the time, I’d avoided trouble rather than looking for it. Unless someone needed my help. Then the fangs, as it were, showed.
“Is that abnormal? Was Alec like that?”
“Not Alec,” Chris said, and smiled. “I was, though. Still am. The desire to protect is as strong in you as it was in me, perhaps even more so.” He leaned forward, elbows on his crossed legs. “I’ll tell you something, Liam. Your wulf is showing signs of being powerful, possibly the strongest I’ve seen in a wulfleng. But your control is amazing for the training we’ve been able to do. I have high hopes for you.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. “If it’s so strong, will I be able to control it?”
“You will. Don’t worry.”
A sound from the end of the barn aisle distracted us. Josh, in a hurry. I stood, sensing trouble, and my teeth itched to drop again.
“You forget you have a phone?” Josh scolded.
“I turned it off.” Chris frowned. “What’s up?”
“Peter needs you. Dillon’s in a spot of trouble—he wants you to put the fear of God into him.”
I growled. Chris shot me a look, and his eyes narrowed. Josh patted the air with his hands. “It’s okay, Liam. They’re fine, no one got hurt. Dillon took out a few cows at the neighbor’s, and Peter wants Chris to do his enforcer shtick.”
I scanned the pictures on the wall and focused on the good memories. Tired as I was, it took me a while. To give Chris credit, he waited for me to gain control before he shut and locked the cage door.
“Go,” I said, my word slurred by the damned teeth. “Scare the hell out of the bastard.”
“I’ll get Chloe to text you, let you know they’re okay,” Chris said. He left with Josh. Less than ten minutes later, Josh returned, standing just outside the cage. He had a package wrapped in foil.
“Roast chicken,” he said, handing it through the bars.
“Thanks.”
He hesitated. “He’s pushing you hard. Harder than he has before, harder than he did Alec. But you can take it. It means he thinks you’ve got something special.”
I’ve got a bloody wulf that wants to sink his teeth into Dillon. But it was interesting to hear Josh’s assessment. And the truth was, as stretched as I felt, I could take it. Something inside me kept growing to accommodate the new demands.
“Keen is enjoying the bed. She’s a sweet dog.”
I appreciated his attempts to distract me from Peter and Chloe. “You should get a dog. You’re good with her.”
Josh chewed on his lip. “Yeah. Not a bad idea. He could run with us, might be fun.”
I considered Chris’s idea of a run. That would be the fittest dog on the planet.
“If you need anything, buzz me,” Josh said. “I’ll keep an eye on you until Chris is back.”
“Thanks.” I sucked air as the fangs disappeared into my gums, a uniquely painful process. When I next looked over, Josh had gone.
I set the chicken on the cot beside me and stared at my phone, waiting. I couldn’t relax until I knew they were okay. When the text came through, it was from Chloe.
We’re OK. Dillon killed 3 cows. He feels bad. Peter wanted Chris. Chris will make him pay attention.
I considered what she’d written, and what she hadn’t, and texted back: Not your fault. Dillon’s pushing it.
It wasn’t anything that Peter likely hadn’t told her by the hour, but I was relieved when she finally answered: I can handle Dillon. Don’t worry. How are u?
So much for her listening. Fangs hurt. Chris is a prick.
Fangs? U move fast. Chris is amazing. He’ll get u through.
I typed quickly, lest she misunderstood. Texting could give the wrong impression in a hurry. If anyone can get me through, it’s him. But he pushes hard.
She must have typed with super thumbs because her replies were lightning fast. He cares. Peter says he likes u, so look out. Gtg, take care.
With that, her contact terminated. I ground my teeth. Chloe was so wrong about Dillon; I could feel it in my bones. How do you save someone from themself? Her devotion to Dillon bordered on unbalanced. Had I misread the relationship? I stared at the screen for a while before putting down my phone and unwrapping the chicken. Despite having lost my appetite, I devoured every scrap and gnawed at the bones.
Wulf indeed.
* * *
It wasn’t Chris that let me out of the cage the next morning, but Josh, with Keen.
“He’s been held up,” Josh explained. “Wants you to run without him.” He caught my expression and added, “Nothing to do with Chloe or Dillon. There’s a situation developing in Brandon. He’s Skyping with Matt, the enforcer out there. He’ll see you when you get back.” Both Josh’s voice and his expression betrayed his worry.
I used the bathroom and washed the fever sweat off my face. To my surprise, my tee shirt now stretched tight across my chest and shoulders. I tugged at it, wondering how I could put on so much muscle in such a short time. Becoming a wulf certainly had the jump on a gym membership.
Keen bounded along the path ahead of me, and I used her four-legged agility as an inspiration. Chris didn’t keep his running paths clear of debris, which made them perfect for training young wulfleng. I removed my runners, left them dangling from a branch, and set off to embrace the wulf within.
After a mile, I abandoned the trail in deliberate pursuit of obstacles. I pushed myself well past my usual pace, scrambling over logs and shoving through bush, trying to see my world as a werewolf. Overhanging branches provided me with an excuse to leap and grab, swinging and releasing. I viewed tree trunks as pendulums
