Page 13 of Wolf Reborn

His own turning had been horrific, but painless.

Okay, well, he’d been in pain at the time. The feral alpha had blown through him and his men like they were plastic soldiers. Gavin wasn’t sure what the alpha had been trying to do, yanking him up by one arm, dislocating the shoulder and letting Gavin dangle a few inches above the floor.

Moments before, he’d watched the monster toss Dez across the room with the immense power in its jaws, like the enormous man was a rag doll. He’d thought at the time that Dez was dead.

His best friend.

Gavin was nothing if not a survivor. Or at least a bastard who was going to get revenge before he died. So he’d ripped the monster’s throat out with his blunt, human teeth.

Thinking about it still made him want to gag. He shoved his food away and put his head down on the counter.

Dez seemed to sense the change in his mood, and didn’t ask. He just put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and left it there. They stayed like that until the pack arrived home from wherever they’d gone for breakfast.

Gavin pushed himself up, inclined his head, said a quick “thank you” to Dez, and hurried upstairs. The pack could live without him for a day. They were clever and strong and self-sufficient. They hardly needed him at all.

He’d never imagined being so grateful for that.

7

Just Give Me a Reason

Werewolves.

Werewolves were a thing.

Gavin was one of them.

Miles stopped at a liquor store on the way home, and after staring at the shelves for a while, he bought a bottle of vodka.

And a bottle of tequila.

Werewolves.

He got home and sat at his tiny dining table, little more than a card table, and stared at the bottles in front of him. He’d imagined it, surely. Jumped to conclusions.

The truth was what he’d assumed at first, and they were keeping a pack of wolves as pets. A pack of wolves they allowed in the house and named after members of their group.

That didn’t seem ridiculous at all.

On the other hand: werewolves.

He almost called Gavin to clarify. Is it werewolves, or were you just lying about the whole wolves-as-pets thing? And then Gavin would say, “Werewolves? Miles, have you been drinking?” and they would laugh and laugh.

Well, and Miles would be annoyed Gavin had lied to him.

Except Gavin hadn’t.

Miles was as sure of that as he’d ever been of anything. Gavin might not have been giving him all the information, and yes, omission was a lie in its own way, but he hadn’t been actively lying. They weren’t keeping wolves as pets.

Bits and pieces of the conversation drifted back to him as he sat there staring at the booze.

The wolves got in on their own.

They’re free to leave anytime.

I have no idea what’s normal anymore, Miles.

Of course they had gotten in on their own and were free to leave. They weren’t just wolves; they were humanandwolves. How could Gavin have any idea what was normal when he was a goddamned werewolf?

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