The doctor, a matronly woman with the face of someone who got very little sleep, wrapped the gauze around Hazel’s fingers and secured it with a piece of tape. “Luckily, only the one finger was actually fractured, and the break is stable. You'll need to keep it taped for three or four weeks.”
“What about typing? I'm a writer,” Hazel said anxiously.
The doctor pursed her lips. “I'd give yourself a week or two off. Then you can start up again slowly, and see how it feels. Here’s some pain meds, if you need them.” The doctor left the room; Hazel hoped it was to take a nap. The pain meds were just extra strength ibuprofen, but in truth, her hand bothered her much less than it had the night before. She swallowed two of the large tablets with the last of her orange juice and sighed.
It seemed she was stuck here, for who knew how long, with no phone or computer, and even if she had them, she'd only be able to type with one hand. It was infuriating, but she reminded herself that it could have been worse. She could have been killed yesterday. Though she didn’t agree with many of Val’s decisions, she had to accept that right now, he was doing his best.
She looked out the window, her head resting on her hand, and watched a wolf trot out of the woods, shaking water from its fur. It looked up at her, its—his hazel eyes intense. There was no doubt in her mind that the wolf was Val. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then he passed under the window, into the house.
She felt like she ought to try to speak him again; if she was going to be here a while, things certainly couldn't stay as they were. She wanted to know what he wanted from her, though admittedly, she wasn't even sure what she wanted from him, besides an apology.
Several minutes passed, and she had just about convinced herself to raid his bookshelves when there was a soft rapping on the door. “Hazel?” Val's voice was calm, and perhaps a little hesitant. “Can I come in?” She found it slightly amusing that he was asking permission to come in his own room, but it wasn't as if she'd chosen to be in here.
“Yeah, it's fine.” The door opened slowly, as if he expected some sort of ambush, but finally she could see him standing in the doorway, his posture tense as he took in the whole scene.
“You've seen the doctor, then?” he asked, taking one step inside the room. It brought him closer than she might have expected. Even when he seemed to be making some effort to make himself less intimidating than usual, Val took up a lot of space.
“Only one of my fingers is broken, but I still won't be typing with my left hand for at least a couple of weeks,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. They'd never get anything accomplished if they started fighting again, and she’d mostly said what she wanted to say.
“I'm sorry about that, Hazel. I know that will make things difficult for you,” he said. “I did bring you a phone. It's nothing fancy, but you'll be able to call your family, or do whatever else you need to do.”
She took the phone from his outstretched hand. It was an older smartphone, but nearly as good as the one she had lost. To him it probably seemed like a downgrade. “Thanks.” There were about a hundred other things she wanted to ask about, but she didn't know how to start.
Val cleared his throat. “Hazel… I’ve been meaning to apologize to you about the whole… contract thing. I suppose it's a little late for it now, but I didn't intend for you to feel like you were unimportant. I thought it would be safer and easier for everyone if I kept things professional. That we'd just be helping each other with a problem. Obviously, it was stupid. And callous, and you're right to be angry.”
“Why didn't you say anything before? Anka told me that you regretted it right away.” He scowled. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to be ratted out by his own assistant.
“Well, I’d spent a lot of time convincing my father that it was a good idea,” he said sourly. “Besides, you already hated me, and the contract was signed. I didn't think there was a point to backing out, except to make myself look more like an idiot.”
He sighed. “When I saw you crying at the last appointment, I wanted to comfort you, and you wouldn't even speak to me. I didn't know what to do.” She'd never seen a grown man look so lost, and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it or offer him sympathy.
“So, what do you want to do now?” He swallowed and took another step forward. Now he was in her space, less than an arm’s length away, but he'd left the door open, and angled himself so that he was not between her and this small bit of freedom. Perhaps it wasn't true freedom, considering the circumstances, but she understood the intent.
“If you…” he started to say, but the sound of feet running down the hallway interrupted him. He had barely turned when Anka burst into the room, panting.
“There's been an attack on the northern border! Marko called. There's at least ten wolves out there.”
“Shit, that's more than I thought they had,” Val said, and Hazel could almost see the calculations running in his mind. “I'll go. You stay here with Hazel. I suppose Father has already gone.”
“The Alpha took his seconds ahead just before I came to speak with you,” Anka said, and the two shared a look.
“It can't be helped,” he murmured. “You just keep her safe. Start preparing for injuries with the other non-combatants.” Anka nodded, though Hazel could tell she was itching to join the fight. Val turned back to her, opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then shook his head, apparently thinking better of it. He turned and jogged out the door. Hazel watched him go with a cold knot of dread in her stomach, wondering if she'd ever see him again. Was the life of a werewolf always like this?
“Now what do we do?” Hazel asked, turning to Anka with clenched fists.
“Nothing we can do but wait,” she replied. “You can help us set up cots and ready the bandages.”
They went downstairs. Hazel felt like her head was on a swivel, it was so busy looking around. The house was huge, a mansion in terms of size but not particularly opulent. Instead it was airy and open, and anything that might have been considered decorative was something not easily broken. “The upper floors are reserved for the Alpha and his family,” Anka said in answer to her unspoken question. “Right now, it's just Val and his father, Boris, and Boris’s seconds.
“Val lets Marko and I stay here too, but that's partly because there's so much unused space. The lower floors are sort of dormitories for unmated adults, or older teenagers who've become too rowdy for their parents,” she said, grinning. “Everyone else has their own houses in the surrounding area. We've got about five square miles of contiguous land.”
“How many of you are there?” she asked as they finally reached the ground floor. A group of teenagers was already gathering medical supplies, while a few older adults herded children out of the chaos. The air was tense, but with purpose, not with fear.
“Hmmm.” Anka pursed her lips. “Off the top of my head, I'd guess about forty adults, and half as many children, maybe a little more. Of those, only about twenty-five will fight. That's why Val was surprised by the number of outcasts. Either they're a huge group, which is concerning for multiple reasons, or every single member is fighting, and that means they're desperate.”
“So how does it work? Werewolves, I mean? You're all born that way? Do you really have to change in the full moon, and all that stuff?” Hazel asked. Anka started pulling folding cots out of a closet, and under her direction, Hazel picked one up under each arm and followed her to another room, which turned out to be a small gym. On one side, the doctor was overseeing the establishment of an impromptu clinic, on the other, the group of small children from earlier was engaged in watching a movie.
“Werewolves are usually born, but they can be turned,” Anka replied. “Not by an accidental bite, like you see in movies, but an adult werewolf biting deep enough to draw blood with the intent of creating another werewolf. Some people think it won't work without consent, but it's so rare now, no one would actually test such a thing. All of that other stuff, about silver and the full moon is bull.
“We can die in the same way that any other person can, it's just that we're sturdy and heal quickly, so the kind of thing that ought to kill a person might not kill us.” She unfolded the cot where the doctor indicated and then shrugged. “I suppose we might get a little more restless when the moon is full, but plenty of regular people do too.”
Hazel considered all of this in silence, unfolding the cots and setting them up. It felt good to be doing something, but when they had both finished, the doctor shooed them away. There was nothing more they could help with, at least until the injured starting coming in. Hazel followed Anka down the hall until they found themselves in a large, empty kitchen.
“So, what did you mean when you said mated? Is that just the werewolf term for married or…?”
“Sort of,” Anka said, leaning on the counter, her eyes glittering. Hazel would not give her the satisfaction of looking away, though she could feel her cheeks turning red. But she needed to know these things. She was already having Val’s children, after all. “Wolves in the wild mate for life.
“So do we. I mean, don't get me wrong, we're not against casual sex, especially when we're young, but once a pair of werewolves decides they want a long-term relationship, they do the mating ceremony. It's a private thing, involving a bite to the neck. From then on, you're bound for life, in an emotional, physical, and psychic sense.”
“Psychic?” Hazel asked. She might have been more surprised if the whole thing wasn't already so crazy.
“Sure. I mean, I know this must all seem pretty weird, but everyone in the pack can communicate telepathically while in wolf form. Mates have an even deeper connection, but every bond is different, and I’m not mated so…” Anka shrugged, an eloquent endpoint. “Everyone is going to start wanting lunch any minute, if you don't mind helping.” Hazel appreciated the distraction of making sandwiches while her mind churned.
She understood so much more about Val with just that little bit of information. Mating among werewolves was forever, a bond that went far beyond a legal document. His father had been devastated when his mate died, and Val was afraid of that bond, but as the son of the Alpha, Hazel could well imagine that he would be a hot item among his own kind.
So he’d sworn off the whole thing entirely, and when his father had started to pressure him about children, he picked the safest option he could think of, having a baby with a human who didn’t know anything about him or his life. That didn’t make it right, but…
She sighed. That still didn’t answer the question of what would happen now that she’d been pulled into this world. Would she ever be allowed to leave, now that she knew? Did she really want to?
************************
Hours passed. Hazel learned that werewolf children were much like other children, except they ate a lot, and sometimes their wrestling matches turned into literal dogfights, after which an adult would be forced to run after them to make them put their clothes back on.
Nudity, Anka explained, was part and parcel of being a werewolf, but that didn’t mean they encouraged people to walk around naked. After all, most of the adult pack members needed to interact with humans on a daily basis for their jobs, and the more normally they acted at home, the more natural and easy life outside was.
News from the battle on the borders was slow to reach them, especially at first, but around mid-afternoon, the injured began to trickle in. Was the fighting over? No one seemed to know, but most of the injuries were not severe, which Hazel took as a good sign.
Still, an hour passed, and then another, and there was no sign of Val or his father. They were alive, and that was all that anyone knew. Those that weren’t helping the wounded began to make dinner, and Hazel stopped in the middle of slicing vegetables to stare out the window again. “You’re worried about him,” Anka said with a grin.
“Of course, I am,” Hazel answered testily, her face heating again. “Aren’t you?”
“Not really. I know what he’s capable of,” Anka said easily, rinsing out some lettuce in the sink. “But what I mean to say is, you must not hate him as much as he thinks you do, if you’re concerned for his well-being.”
“I don’t hate him. I just wanted him to treat me like… a person, instead of a walking incubator. Now that I understand him a little better…” She wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. It depended a lot on Val, on what he wanted, but she couldn’t deny that she felt… a connection to him. Something she wanted to explore.
There was a commotion on the front porch. Everyone tensed, and Hazel took a step in the direction of the door. Anka grabbed her arm. “Don’t get caught in the chaos. I guarantee he’ll come to you if he can.” Hazel pursed her lips. How could she be so sure?
But a few minutes later, as she was robotically pulling forks out of a drawer, she felt a presence behind her. He was smeared with dirt and blood, a set of gashes on his chest was still oozing, and that was only what was visible. But he was alive. “Val,” she said, gulping back a sudden rush of emotions. “Are you all right?’
He nodded, his eyes intent upon her. The air between them was charged with intention and words unsaid. “All of my wounds are superficial. We killed two of the outsiders and drove off the rest.” It was strange to hear him talk about taking another life so casually, but at the same time, she remembered those men, how quick they were to hurt her. She had no doubt it was kill or be killed.
“But my father…” he continued, and his voice wavered, just for a moment, “he’s been badly injured.” Without thinking, Hazel reached out and took his hand. Val’s eyes went wide, but his fingers closed around hers. She opened her mouth to speak, but Anka breezed into the kitchen with bad timing that seemed to be her trademark.
“Val! There you are. I see you’ve found Hazel. But seriously, get your filthy ass out of the kitchen. Go take a shower before those cuts get infected.” She shoved at his shoulder, and he released Hazel’s hand somewhat reluctantly before exiting the room. The spell of the moment had been broken, but she flexed her fingers as the warmth of his hand lingered.
*****************************
The heat stung in his wounds even as it relaxed his muscles, but Val closed his eyes and turned his face into the water, wishing it could carry his troubles down the drain along with the dirt. Everything was falling apart. How many years had the pack had peace, and now it was shattered. His father was dying; he could admit that here, where there was no one to see or question. He’d always known this day would come, eventually, but he’d expected years more, with plenty of time to prepare. To steel himself for all the changes to come.
The only bright spot in all of this mess was Hazel, but Val couldn’t help but berate himself for not approaching the situation differently. Perhaps she would already be one of them, and thus much less vulnerable.
Even if that was too optimistic, it would have been easier if he wasn’t worrying about her pregnancy as well as how she was handling the sudden revelation that he and his entire family were supernatural creatures of legend.
He’d been surprised to find her in the kitchen with the others, just as if she belonged there, and then she’d taken his hand, to comfort him. Even through his fatigue and worry, his wolfish instincts had risen up, urging him to get closer, to claim her. Annoying as it had been, Anka’s interruption had been timely.
In his current emotional state, he might have had trouble controlling himself if things had gone much farther. Even the thought that he might kiss her made his blood burn. He shook himself and turned off the water. Now was hardly the time for such thoughts.
When he got downstairs, they were waiting for him, Marko and Anka, and his father’s seconds, their eyes shining with fear, and he knew. Hazel was standing on the outside of the group, hugging herself, and he wanted more than anything to go to her, but the doctor, Oksana, took his arm. “He’s been asking for you,” she said, leading him into the infirmary, and shutting the door.
His father was lying on a gurney, bruises all over him, his breath a rattling rasp in his chest. “Valko, my son, is that you?”
“I’m here, Father,” he replied, sitting in the chair beside the bed. It was hard to see his father like this, the man he’d once thought was the strongest in the world. Now he was blinded in one eye by a gash that crossed the entirety of the left side of his face, and Val could smell the blood on his breath.
“I am not long for this world,” Boris said, letting out a wet cough that made blood bubble on his lips. “But I am not afraid. I know you will lead well. You are strong and smart, and well-loved by your people. But you must promise me one thing.”
“Father?” Even on his deathbed, Val knew the wily old dog was going to try to con him into something unpleasant. He wasn’t keen on promising anything until he’d heard what it was.
“You must take that girl as your mate. The pack needs two leaders to be strong, especially at a time like this. But more than that, you belong together, I can feel it in my bones.” There was no need to explain who ‘that girl’ was.
“I can’t just force her into this. She isn’t one of us,” he retorted, though he wished it wasn’t true. It was more than a little ironic how much he longed for something he’d been trying his whole adult life to avoid.
“Not yet. If you hold out your hand she will take it. I understand these things.” Boris’s voice had lost its strength, and he coughed again, longer and more violently. For a moment, Val thought it was the end, but his father took a deep, shuddering breath. “Promise me that you will try. That you will not push her aside.”
Val let out a sigh. It was a vow he did not mind making. “I will do my best. I… want to be with her.” Boris smiled; it was more painful than reassuring.
“I know,” he said. “You’re a good boy.” He reached up and patted Val’s head as if he was still a child. “No, I think…” Another cough burst from his mouth, and went on and on. Val could hear his father’s heartbeat becoming weak and erratic. The doctor ran over, but of course there was nothing to be done. With one last gasp, a stream of blood issued from Boris’s mouth, and he fell back against the pillow, pale and limp.
“He’s gone,” Oksana said quietly. “Will you tell the others?” Val backed away from the bed. He knew he should; it was his responsibility as the next Alpha, though that wouldn’t be confirmed until the Pack Council convened. But his mind was roiling.
“I need a moment,” he heard himself say as he exited the room, and pushed through the crowd of onlookers, unseeing. He went for the nearest exit, throwing his shirt on the ground, and a moment later, he was running, not even noticing the pounding rain.