Page 63 of A Wolf in the Garden

Please know that I hate this. I hate that it has to be this way. I’m so sorry.

Van, honey, pick up the phone. Please. I just want to hear your voice.

Monday, 5 May

Evander, I love you. I know this is hard. I know this isn’t fair. I’m so, so sorry. You are still my baby boy, I want you to know that. I’m not holding anything against you regarding the fight — what happened is just shifter nature. I don’t know how much contact you want with your father right now, but I am here if you need it. I’m going to stop calling and wait for you. Take all the time you need. I want to respect your boundaries. I’m proud of you. You’re a good man. You’re going to be a great alpha, I just know it. Love, Mom. xx

I never replied to any of them. I was too hurt, too overwhelmed, my body in shock from the onslaught of magic that came from assuming the mantle of an alpha. It didn’t matter that my pack consisted of one woman and her pups; to my body it may as well have been a super-pack, one of the ones numbering in the thousands, biology working the same as it does for all alphas. I couldn’t deal with hearing my mother’s voice, likely tearful and guilt-ridden. I’ve heard that tone enough already, since Jenny’s death.

My thumb hovers over the onscreen keyboard as I debate messaging her now. I should, for Ellie’s sake.

Mom,I type out.I have a lot to fill you in on.

Then I remember the last time I spoke to my father on the phone, when he called last month just to tell me that I’m wasting my time on Lost Moon. I remember the disdain still present in his voice, the realisation that I had at the time, that despite finally breaking free, despite not being my father’s direct competition these days, things will never be okay between us. Too much damage has been done over the years for it to just be water under the bridge. And although I know that Mom has always kept out of shifter politics within the pack — that she’s always been an outsider, despite being mated to the alpha — my pride won’t let me go to her with my tail between my legs, knowing that she’ll tell him all about it.

I hit the backspace button and close out of the app, dropping the phone on the table by the front door where Ellie and I always leave our keys. I stare at the spot for a minute, at my car keys piled next to hers. I do a slow turn, taking in the bouquets of flowers Ellie brings in daily from her garden, the houseplants she added to the kitchen windowsill, the throw on the couch that she likes to cuddle under every evening. Her multiple shoes, just inside the front door — flip flops, sandals, sneakers, gumboots — because she’ll never step foot further into the house unless she’s in socks or bare feet, a cultural practice that I’ve begun to adopt myself.

If I concentrate, I can still hear her steady breaths from here.

I have to keep her safe.

She fits into my life so easily. It’s as if she’s always been here, and I shouldn’t be surprised, because that’s how it was every summer, growing up. It’ssimplewith her. It’s fate.

I have to keep her safe.

I open the front door with a shaky hand, sucking in great lungfuls of the cool night air. It’s not enough, my chest feeling tight, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, no matter how many breaths I take. With a growl of frustration, I let my shifter wolf free.

I run.

I run between the vines, zig zagging up and down the rows, paws eating up the distance, breath panting in the cool air. I crest the highest peak on the vineyard, the scent of crushed grass and sweet night flowers, the lingering smells of humans and spilled wine, and the earthier smell of broken ground all filling my nose. I run through the paddock that I already think of as Ellie’s garden, up and over the ridge, parallel to the road. I scent nothing but the grass and the flowers and the dirt and the sea and the tar on the road, and yet I still fear that the monsters worse than me are lurking just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to take my mate.

I howl at the moon, again and again. It is a call to a pack, but there is no answer. The pack I knew is gone; they stayed with the stronger alpha, and—

I stop, ears pricking, hearing the howling reply. It soundswrong, a mere mimicry of a wolf, but when it sounds again I can hear the voice behind it, and I call back to her. And then I am running, running as fast as my four legs will take me, running towards my mate. She stands in a halo of light in front of the house, and I tear towards her, claws digging into the earth, breath panting, heart racing.

“Van.”

She is all open arms, and I am whining and wagging and licking at her, until I need more. I need to beEvander, the man, so that I can have her. She doesn’t even blink when I change before her, simply wrapping her arms around my naked body, heedless of the mud and cut grass that coats my arms and legs.

“How did you know?” I whisper, voice hoarse. “How did you know to answer me like that?”

Her pupils are huge in the dark of the night, her hands cold as they caress my face. “Because I know you. Because I know what you need. Now come inside, and let me take care of you.”

“I should—”

“Shhh.No. Let me do this for you.”

She pulls me inside, leading me down the hall and straight into the shower. She strips off the oversized t-shirt from my wardrobe, leaving her naked before me.

I let her wash me, let her rub soap into my palms, my forearms, my back. I watch her kneel before me, her hands washing away the debris that clings to my legs and feet, and when she runs her hands back up my legs to grasp my cock, I snap. She gasps in shock as I pull her from the floor, pressing her back against the cold tiles, but the kiss she gives me is ravenous, just as desperate as mine, her nails scoring patterns down my back as I slide home, deep inside her pussy, where I belong.

* * *

My favourite part of owning a vineyard is the physical labour involved. Wolves aren’t meant to spend all day sitting behind a desk; we crave the outdoors, the fresh air and open spaces, and the tasks that make you break a sweat. After sleeping in a little too long thanks to my shifted run in the night, I spend the morning working on the vines alongside some of my employees. It’s repetitive work, training the young shoots back onto their wire supports, but with the warm sun on my back, a fresh breeze blowing in from the ocean, and good people to talk to, it’s an enjoyable way to spend a few hours.

Ellie works onsite, too, and I occasionally catch her scent in the air, drifting down from the top paddock where she gardens alongside the contractors. The new garden space is already beginning to take shape, the amount of work achieved in a matter of weeks astounding, and I couldn’t be happier with the way Ellie is running the project. She’s a talented woman, and its a fucking turn on.

I know she was worried about how she’d be perceived by staff, given her work and our relationship. Thankfully, things have been the opposite of what she expected; with the majority of the contractors being non-human — a mixture of shifters, orcs, werecats, a merman in his human form, and Kaito, the dragon shifter — they haven’t been bothered in the slightest. As a general rule, non-humans are far more lenient towards workplace relationships, and with good reason. Fated mates — pairings triggered by scent and compatibility — are common enough across a number of species for no one to bat an eye when it happens in unexpected places.

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