Page 33 of Way of the Wolf

As I padded back through the bedroom, first-aid kit in hand, I eyed the drawer again. It seemed an unlikely coincidence that the case and cameras, items that might have been there for years—that hadprobablybeen there for years—had anything to do with this. But who knew?

Though nerves twisted in my belly at the idea of returning to my childhood home, I needed to talk to my mother. I doubtedshewanted me dead. And she might know what had crawled up Augustus’s butt.

I halted in the doorway, a thought surfacing. What if Mom had died?

She was about seventy. It was possible. As I’d been considering before, maybe she had kept the others from going after me over the years, but now the restraint was gone. My shoulders slumped at the thought that she might have passed without me having a chance to say goodbye. But wouldn’t someone have told me if she’d been ill?

I didn’t know. Besides, werewolves tended to go out in a blaze of glory. In battle or a hunt. They didn’t like to give in to the burden of time, of age and disease.

For even more reasons, I knew with certainty that I had to go home and find out what was going on.

I stepped into the living room with the first-aid kit. “I need to go after I bandage you.”

Duncan perched on the edge of the couch, holding the towel to his ribs to keep the blood flow staunched. He’d also spread paper towels across the cushions, the arm rest, and on the floor under his feet.

“Go where?” He followed my gaze to the paper towels—therest remained on the roll on the coffee table. “I’m trying to be a conscientious guest and obey your wishes.”

“That’s appreciated. I need to see someone. In person.” As far as I knew, my mom didn’t have a phone or any other trappings of modern civilization. She lived in a cabin in the woods, with several relatives in similar homes within a few miles, and she still hunted and followed the old ways as much as she could while ignoring humanity and the outside world.

“Do you want company?” Duncan asked.

“To see my werewolf family? No. They would hate you as much as Augustus does, simply for being an outsider. Well, for being an outsider and not asking permission from them to be in their territory.”

“Does that mean that if we fall in love and get married, they won’t come to the wedding?” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

“They might come to stop it. Or to kill us.”

“I’m getting un-fuzzier about why you left.”

“It’s probably not what you think.” Not explaining further, I removed gauze and antiseptic and waved for him to let me see his gouges. “The pack, my family, isn’t that bad when you’re one of them. They’re just uppity about outsiders.”

“Which you are?”

“These days, yeah.”

“And if you find a new potion supplier, you’ll continue to be one, right? That’s what you want?”

I focused on cleaning his wounds and didn’t answer. I wasn’t positive I knew the answer.

When the boys had lived at home, and Chad and I had been together, I’d been certain. I’d never wanted to endanger them with what I could become. But now? My plans for the future involved continuing to live in the human world, saving enough to buy a small multifamily property, living in one of the units, and being there whenever my kids came to visit. Being there when they hadgrandkids. There were aspects of the wolf way that I missed, but it was hard to imagine returning to the pack. Besides, the reason I’d left remained. My lack of ability to control myself and what I did in wolf form.

Duncan didn’t clear his throat pointedly, but he did stir, his intent gaze upon me as he waited for an answer.

I didn’t owe him one but caught myself saying, “It’s what’s safest.”

A tentative knock at the door made me pause. Certain Augustus wouldn’t do anything tentatively, I handed Duncan the gauze and went to answer.

Bolin stood on the threshold with two women I didn’t recognize. “The plumber just left. He opened up the wall and started fixing those leaky pipes. He said the job won’t take long, and then we can take care of the mold. I’ll look into that. Like I said.”

“There’s mold here?” one of the women asked, looking at the other.

Both in their early thirties, they might have been sisters.

“Not for long,” I said.

“These are potential renters who are here to look at an apartment.” Bolin beamed smiles at both of them. He stood painfully straight, his face earnest, and he wasn’t toting around his man purse.

I’d forgotten we had an appointment for that this evening. I’d been understandably distracted, but that didn’t make me forgive myself for the lapse. Maybe having an intern around to man the leasing office, at least when my relatives were attacking me, wasn’t a bad idea, after all.

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