“Thanks.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and smile.
I’m comfortable for once since arriving in El Paso. I feel a little more like myself. The wolf shifter girl who doesn’t care if people like her. Who has amazing friends back home and a Clan that loves her.
With my arms full, Zheng helps me carry my load to his car and we toss everything in the back of his Subaru WRX. As I shopped, he told me about the cabin we’ll be staying in. It’s on Pack lands but he’s assured me it’s okay, even though I’m a lone wolf.
There’s a chance I might get to meet some of the other wolves from his Pack. The ones who don’t attend Hellbound High. He says they’re not all broody assholes like Rafael, which is good, though I’m still anxious over the prospect.
On the hour-long drive to Shadle Creek, Zheng tells me about the copious amounts of partying that’ll be taking place. Partying isn’t really my scene and I’m a little bummed by the cabin. I miss sleeping with my Packmates in a giant heap under the stars. But the practical side of me realizes it’s probably for the best. I’m not sure I’d get an ounce of sleep outside knowing vampires could be lurking in the shadows anyway.
The more Zheng talks, the more I get the sense he comes from money. Not like Brian does. That’s an entirely different level. But Zheng’s father is better off in the human world than most. The way he talks about life growing up feels a lot like the way Brian lives.
His parents share custody, so he divides his time between the two. From the sounds of it, he only stays with his father one or two weekends a month and that seems to be the way he likes it. The Southwest Pack is large. Not as big as the Pacific Northwest Pack but it’s a close runner-up. I guess when he was born, his mom got the Pack lawyers involved to fight for full custody, but his father refused to go down without a fight and in the end, was awarded shared. Zheng has some say in how often he sees him now that he’s older, but he still has mandatory visitation obligations.
“Are you close with him?” I ask, not wanting to pry but curious.
He shakes his head. “I barely know the man. I see some of the guys in my Clan with their dads and …” he exhales a breath. “It’d be nice to have that, you know? To have someone to teach me how to be a man. To provide for my future mate. My father is more concerned with manipulating business deals and keeping my shifter status a secret from his investors. He never really did things with me growing up. I was always with a nanny or spending time on my own.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “It’s cool. I’m used to it. And there are perks. He bought me this car. If I want anything, all I usually have to do is ask. He rarely says no.”
“Ah, a sugar daddy for a daddy,” I tease.
He snorts. “I wouldn’t go that far but sort of.”
We spend the rest of the drive singing off-key to 90s punk rock music and for the first time in over a week, I feel myself relaxing. The wind blows tendrils of my hair loose and I can’t help but smile wide as Zheng navigates us down the winding roads, both of our windows rolled down, the sun shining through, and the smell of cypress trees wafting to me.
There’s no pressure here. No hate-filled stares. Zheng is surprisingly funny, and despite having a horrible singing voice, he has no problem belting out the lyrics to I Write Sins Not Tragedies right along with me.
Before I know it, the asphalt road turns to gravel and we’re pulling into a clearing ringed with cabins. Dozens of teenagers—some I recognize from school and others I don’t—are milling around, chatting and drinking beer. Some are pitching tents and another group is getting a bonfire started in the center of the clearing. There’s a small cluster of pale boys near the tree line, and I suspect they’re vampires, but I don’t ask Zheng for confirmation. To be honest, it’s better not to know.
As soon as we get out of the car, I close my eyes and breathe in the forest around me. I can smell the soil, the fire, traces of a natural coyote that must have passed through here not long ago. My shoulders lower, my breathing slows. I exhale and it’s like all the tension from earlier this week melts away.
I catch Zheng grinning at me over the top of his car.
“Glad you came?”
I nod and grab my bags, following him as he leads the way to the first cabin on our right. “Yeah. This place is really cool,” I say as he unlocks the door and we step inside. He drops his own bag just inside the doorway and I take in the rustic yet clean A-frame cabin. It’s simple and screams shifter hangout with the mismatched sofas and red Solo cups already set up on the dining table. A game of beer pong is definitely in our future tonight, which is always perplexing to me, but even my packmates enjoyed playing the occasional round or three.
Shifters can’t get drunk. Not that I’ve ever seen anyway. The lycanthropy virus—Lyc-V for short— burns through alcohol at too fast a pace for us to feel its effects. We have the same issue with caffeine, though I still drink coffee for the flavor. Beer … well … let’s just say I’m not the biggest fan so it always seemed pointless.
There’s a surround sound system set up in every corner, and an old school
