Hank’s nostrils flared as we came to a stop. “You smell different,” he accused, not wasting any time. The charming southern drawl should’ve sounded like a good ol’ boy full of apple pie, but instead it was like a pie full of buzzing wasps. “Kinda like a werewolf, but somehow off”—he inhaled again, tasting—“more like a mongrel bitch in heat.”
Well, that was a pretty picture.
Without my consent, my fight-or-flight response flew to the surface as adrenaline rushed through me, spurred on by the strong scent of Hank’s aggression. My muscles began to twitch inside the tight wrapper of my skin and my nerve impulses sparked like a million tiny fireworks. Shit. I had no idea if I’d be able to stay in control or if my wolf would fight me for it. I couldn’t handle a battle for Dominion right now, not to mention I wasn’t supposed to give myself away to these two losers.
I forced myself to take a step backward.
Fight. My wolf flexed in my mind, pushing for control.
I curled my fingers into fists, crushing the empty foam coffee cup into tiny bits. With effort I steeled away the urge to hand Hank his ass on a platter. My nails dug into my palms. It was all I could do to keep myself under control. Down, girl, I hissed. This isn’t the time or the place. If we fight Hank, we lose everything. I stood my ground, but the power was dizzying. She pushed back with the force of a tornado.
Hank’s eyes widened with a hint of surprise, but he recovered quickly. “Yep, just like a dog in heat.” He forced a chuckle through his clenched teeth. “But not a true werewolf, because no self-respecting wolf would stink like that.”
He was playing me for dominance.
It was his wolf’s natural instinct. I knew it. He knew it. We all knew it. Whether or not he thought I was a wolf at this point didn’t matter. This was a stressful situation, and a wolf like Hank emitted dominance constantly, always fearful of losing his place in the pecking order. Unlike James and Tyler, who had solidified their dominance by sheer force, earning respect and ensuring other wolves were wary of a fight they weren’t likely to win. A wolf could sense power, and the rites of passage in this race were fierce. Fighting for status happened on a regular basis. Pack dynamics were fluid and only one constant remained: the weak fell below and the strong rose above.
I exhaled on a shallow breath and clarity struck like an arrow. If Hank and I fought right now, I would win. No contest. It didn’t matter if Hank was older and stronger. It didn’t matter if his status was rightfully above mine.
I knew.
The rush of the knowledge tipped the emotional scales to my wolf and a slow smile crept over my face before I could stop it. Without being totally aware of what I was doing, I brought my head up, my eyes at half-mast as I let the ecstasy of my new wolf wash over me.
The power was a drug. And I liked it.
My eyes pinned Hank’s shit-eating grin with a glare, and as the smirk fell from his face it sent a new jolt of adrenaline racing though my veins, the impact hitting me so hard my fingers exploded in sensation, my nails expanding to sharp points in the time it took to take a breath. For a wolf, holding eye contact was the ultimate challenge.
My gaze didn’t falter.
Something brushed against my brain and my brother’s voice held mild panic. Hey, eeeasy there, Bonnie. No need to start slinging your guns just yet. You need to back the f**k down right now. Do you hear what I’m telling you? This has already gone way too far. You’re not even supposed to be a full-blooded wolf, remember? You need to back off!
Says who? I half slurred.
Hank held my stare with defiance, his eyes flashing amber. Half a beat later they blazed full yellow.
My brother stepped into my shoulder, jostling me. Snap out of it! Drop your stare. Let him be. You’re not supposed to be a wolf! This is typical status behavior, and if Hank pulls you in, you can kiss your freedom goodbye. Lower your goddamn gaze! Act like it’s a mistake and you have no idea what you’re doing.
I tore my eyes from Hank.
My wolf howled inside my mind and I quaked with the need to finish the fight, but there was no other choice, it had to end. Tyler was right, fighting now would be like showing my royal flush before everyone had a chance to place their bets.
I took another step backward, trying hard to fasten a chastened look on my face. I kept my eyes averted, skittering over Hank’s smug smile and over to Stuart, Hank’s only son, looking positively gleeful at my sudden withdrawal. Breaking eye contact first suggested a weakness that went against every grain in my new body.
My wolf snarled in my mind.
Not here, I scolded. We can’t fight. It was totally crazy, but I could hear her in my mind clearly, separate from me, yet the same.
Out of the corner of my eye, Hank crossed his arms, menace emanating off him in noxious waves.
Now what? I asked my brother. My fingers twitched as the smell of a challenge hung in the air. It had a sharp tang to it, like something bitter mixed with smoke. My nails slid back to normal. My wolf was holding back, but just by a hair. She was taut, ready to pounce, still itching for a fight.
“See you later, bitch,” Hank said, turning abruptly on his heel and starting up the hill, Stuart following behind like a puppy.
Way to go, Jess. Tyler sighed once they were gone. You did a superb job of riling up the natives, just like we said we weren’t going to do. God only knows what they’re going to think. There’s no way Hank doesn’t suspect you’re a wolf now. But at least he thinks you’re weak.
I expelled a long frustrated breath, still trying to calm my wolf. I know. I totally blew it. Damn it. I just couldn’t get a hold of it. This crazy emotion shot up out of nowhere. Then there were all these smells and it was confusing. I wanted to fight. It took everything I had to rein her in. Next time I’m not even sure I’ll be able to. It made me nervous to think of having something inside me I couldn’t control, some sort of loose cannon that could go off at any moment. I hoped my father wasn’t making a mistake not chaining me to the bed.
Well, if it makes you feel any better, it took me a hell of a lot longer to control my own wolf. It was a bastard of a fight and still can be. Given the circumstances, I guess I can say you did a better job than I would’ve in your position. Hell, I wanted to rip Hank’s head off.