angry band that wrapped itself around my arms and chest, and I was lifted off the ground.
I tried to fight it.
But I was too weak.
And here, at last, I was face-to-face with Livingstone.
His breath was hot and rank as he pulled me toward his mouth. His one eye was like a burning red sun. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, a growl coming from deep in his chest.
“Fuck you,” I managed to say.
And then: “Don’t.”
Livingstone snapped his jaws.
“Put him down. Don’t do this. Down. Now.”
Livingstone roared in my face.
“If you hurt him. I’ll leave you. Be alone. Always alone. Forever. No one else.”
Livingstone shook me, my head snapping back and forth.
And then he dropped me.
I landed roughly on the ground, screaming at the fresh wave of pain that shot through my leg. My vision was tunneling, and my hands were numb.
Then, from above me, came a whisper. “Are you… are you real?”
I opened my eyes.
A man stood over me.
His black hair hung down around his face, his dark eyes narrowed. He was naked, his skin pale. His shoulders were hunched as he scowled down at me, the hair of the timber wolf receding as he shifted back into human. He looked younger than I remembered him being in the brief moments I’d seen him in Caswell. He could have been my age.
“You fucking idiot,” he grunted, voice deep and raspy. “I told you. To stay away. To go home.”
And I said, “Gavin.”
Something crossed his face, and it was so fucking blue that my heart broke cleanly in two. It was fear and longing, rage and anguish all swirling together in a complicated storm.
He said, “Can’t be here.”
I said, “I found you.”
He said, “Never wanted this. Never wanted you.”
I said, “Too fucking late, you dick. You lie. I can hear it. I can hear it.”
He said, “Let you die.”
I reached up and touched his face. “You’re real.”
He reared back as Livingstone snarled above him. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
I closed my eyes. “To feel like I’m awake.”
And then I only knew darkness.
the only thing/nosy fucker
I stood in a clearing deep in the woods outside of a small mountain town.
The sun was warm on my bare back.
The trees swayed in a cool breeze.
The branches shook. The leaves shuddered.
I said, “What do you want from me?”
And there was no reply.
I said, “What am I supposed to do?”
And there was no reply.
I said, “Who am I supposed to be?”
And my father said, “You always did ask questions. You were curious, even before you learned to walk. I’d turn away from you for just a second, and when I’d look back, you were trying to crawl to the bookshelves. Or into the kitchen. Or to a tree. Once, when you were very young, I lost you.”
I hung my head.
A hand cupped my face, the thumb brushing over my cheek.
“I was tired,” he said. “I wasn’t prepared for what being an Alpha meant. I thought I was, but… your mother was taking a nap. She’d more than earned it. I took you outside, and you were in the grass near the porch. I closed my eyes, and they didn’t open as quickly as I expected them to. And when they did, you were gone.” He sighed, and it sounded like the wind in the trees. “It was white, the panic I felt. It consumed me, blocking my sight and smell and hearing. I almost fell down the steps. I looked around wildly, and I thought, No, please, not you too, please, you can’t leave me, you can’t leave me.”
I couldn’t look at him. It hurt too much.
“So I did the only thing I could.”
“You howled,” I whispered.
“I did,” my father said. “I howled as loud as I ever had. It was the call of an Alpha, the first time I’d ever done it. It tore from me, and I thought my throat would rip. It echoed around me. It felt like it went on forever. And you know what happened next?”
I shook my head.
He chuckled. “You howled back. You’d never done it before, no matter how much I practiced with you. Your mother always laughed at me, telling me you’d do it when you were good and ready. It was a tiny thing, high and reedy. And then you did it again and again and again, and the relief I felt then. Oh god, Carter. It was so green. I turned around, and there you were, underneath the porch. You stuck your little