Page 46 of Cursed Wolf

This road was narrow and even more twisty than the highway. Emmaline never voiced a single complaint. She trusted me enough to see this through, at least.

I drove for another hour before we crossed the metaphysical border between Shyftworld and the human world. It was barely noticeable, like a featherlight brush against my skin. I found it funny that Emmaline had thought it was a spiderweb on our first date.

This road was the main passage I used to cross between worlds, although the path to the lookout spot I’d taken her to was another. It was harder to get to town from the lookout spot though, and town was the first place I wanted to bring Emmaline to explain.

The forest eventually thinned out to a clearing, where Stout & Spirit greeted us cheerily from the horizon. A fleet of motorcycles were parked outside, just as we’d planned. My heart pounded in anticipation as I pulled up next to Ruse’s bike and parked.

This was it. My two worlds colliding.

I let Emmaline off first, holding my arm out to support her, before dismounting myself.

“Welcome to Vargmore.” I held an arm out toward the tavern’s front door, hoping my smile didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “This is our first stop. Our local watering hole.”

Emmaline gazed up at the brick building with its tall, slanted roof, weathered copper weathervane of a wolf chasing a rooster, red-bricked chimney, and wrought-iron sign above the door.

“So,” Emmaline looked behind her at the road and forest and then at the tavern again, “where exactly are we? Is this even California anymore? Planet Earth?”

“We’re not in California.” I kept my voice level, hoping to keep her from getting too freaked out. “Or the United States. As for the same planet, I don’t honestly know. Shyftworld is what most of us call this place as a whole. Our known world, so to speak. Vargmore is the territory I live in. From what we’ve observed, Shyftworld exists parallel to your world, with some overlaps here and there.”

“Another world,” she repeated. “Like another dimension. A parallel universe, maybe?”

“Something like that.” I watched her carefully, noting her lack of emotion. Maybe she was in shock. “Are you okay?”

Emmaline blinked, then smoothed her hair back with a sigh. “I don’t know. This is a lot and I’m trying to process. But I keep thinking back to lectures in school where they said parallel universes are theoretically possible. So, my brain isn’t totally broken yet.”

I kept staring at her face, concern making me hyper aware of every twitch and micro-expression. “Do you want to go back?”

“No. No, I’m good. We’re already here.” She focused on Stout & Spirit’s weathervane again. “This place is really cute. Charming, actually. Reminds me of those old European pubs that have been around since the middle ages.”

The building probably was that old, but that wasn’t information she needed to be bothered with yet.

“Wait until you see the inside.” I grabbed the heavy iron handle and pulled the front door open for her. She didn’t see it, but I sucked in an apprehensive breath before swinging my gaze to the inside.

“Hello, welcome!” Shiloh called from behind the bar. “Please come in.”

All was normal, and I let the breath out in a sigh of relief. My packmates were gathered around their tables, drinks in hand, in human form and fully dressed. Convincing them to wear clothing was half the battle, honestly.

“Have a seat anywhere you’d like. I’m Shiloh.” The witch and owner of the tavern turned up the charm, smiling brightly at Emmaline. “Tryn has told us so much about you.”

“He has?” Emmaline turned to look over her shoulder at me, but her gaze bounced around at all the werewolves. Her human instincts must have been on high alert, and for good reason. She was in a room full of not only strangers but predators.

“He won’t stop talking about you,” Sawyer called from his booth in the corner. His arm was around Riley’s shoulders and he too, smiled at my mate, though his teeth were a little sharp. He probably didn’t even realize it. Male wolves were a whole new level of protective when their mates were pregnant.

“I’m Riley, and this is Sawyer.” Said pregnant mate gave a little pat to Sawyer’s chest. “Your man and mine have been causing trouble since they were old enough to run.”

“Just as best friends are meant to.” Sawyer kissed her temple, his free hand coming to rest on her belly.

“Nice to meet you both,” Emmaline said, casting another glance back at me. “I’ve heard some stories about this childhood troublemaking.”

Riley rolled her eyes and smiled earnestly at my mate. “Not half of them, I’m sure. They’re epic sagas if you ask this one.” She scratched under Sawyer’s jaw.

I touched Emmaline’s shoulder. “How about we get a drink, and then you can meet everybody else?”

“Oh, sure.” She proceeded into the tavern until she reached the bar, bringing her hands hesitantly to the long slab of polished wood. Orson was in the seat next to her, and when he turned his icy gaze to Emmaline, I held my breath for the second time.

Orson was a good guy. Loyal and extremely intelligent. But if there was one thing he lacked, it was social skills.

“Hi,” he said abruptly, sticking his hand out toward her. “I’m Orson.”

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