Wild Wolf

“Mmm.” Graham’s acknowledgment was more of a grunt.

“Did you hear anyone behind you?” Misty asked. She imagined the hiker—the Fae—creeping up behind the cubs in the dark, tranquilizing them somehow. Had he used a tranq gun like the one Graham kept to stop Shifters who got too out of control? Or chloroform on a cloth?

“No,” Matt said. “There was no one down here but us.”

“If you’re thinking of the Fae,” Graham said to Misty. “They’d have smelled him. Fae really stink.”

“Does Reid stink?” Misty asked. “I like him.”

“He does, but we’re used to him. And Reid’s not the same as the High Fae, much as I yank his chain about it. In fact, we could use him here. Dougal.”

Dougal turned around, his laughter gone, the defiant nephew returning. “Oh, come on, why do I always have to run the errands? Find flashlights, fetch Reid. Like I’m your bloody servant.”

“Winning one dominance fight doesn’t make you pack leader,” Graham said, voice going harsh. “You do these things for me because that’s what a good second does.”

Dougal stopped, blinking gray eyes in the lantern light. “Second? I thought Chisholm was your second.”

“I hadn’t decided. But I want to keep it in the family, don’t I? You’re my tracker too, which means you do things to support me.”

The look on Dougal’s face was stunned, turning radiant by the time Graham finished. “Yes!” His shout rang around the large basement. “I’ll get him. I mean, I’m on it. Be right back.” Dougal bounded toward the light part of the basement. He whooped and punched the air, then scrambled up the ladder to the ground with amazing agility.

“That was nice of you,” Misty said.

“Huh. It wasn’t nice. I’m making him my pack and clan second, because I’m seeing that he’s the only one I can trust.” Graham watched until Dougal disappeared into the daylight, then he turned back to the darkness. “I’m going to need to go wolf now. Will you be all right if I do?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Graham was asking her. Showing concern. Not, I’m doing this; too bad if you don’t like it. This was new.

“I’ll be fine,” Misty said, warming.

“Good. You can carry my clothes.”

Figures. “Shouldn’t you wait for Dougal and Reid?” Misty asked as Graham pulled off his shirt. His hard chest came into view in her flashlight’s glare, wiry hair curling across it.

“I want to know what we’re getting into. This basement goes back another fifty feet or so. Dougal will find us.”

Graham yanked open the ties on his boots and pulled them off and his socks. Then, without shame, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and took them off, the loose gray boxers underneath following.

Graham wore his nakedness with the same comfort others wore their workout clothes. He stood easily with his feet in the gravelly dirt as he balled up his pants and shirt and thrust them at Misty.

Misty immediately shook them out and folded them neatly, pretending to ignore Graham rolling his eyes. She tucked the clothes under her arm but left the boots and socks, because Graham seemed fine on his bare feet.

In the light of her bright flashlight, Graham started his change. Fur rippled along his back and down his legs, his thighs bending to become the haunches of an upright wolf. His hands became giant paws very quickly, fur running up his arms, across his chest, and up his throat.

Finally, his face changed to the long nose and glittering gray eyes of a wolf. His ears pricked out last, popping up from his head so quickly that Misty let out a laugh.

Graham growled and charged her. Misty squealed and tried to sidestep, but Graham barreled into her. At the last minute, he pulled back the attack, ending up brushing her legs, his fur wonderfully warm.

Misty stroked him, loving the wiry heat of his fur, the strength of his wolf’s body beneath it. Graham made a noise of what sounded like satisfaction, flowed around her again, and away.

The wolf cubs ran for Graham, yipping in gladness. They jumped at Graham’s nose and rammed small heads into his front legs, until Graham lowered his head and bumped each in turn with his muzzle.

Family, acknowledging family, Misty realized. That was the most important thing, when it came down to it. Family taking care of each other, as Misty had taken care of Paul and her father, as Graham took care of Dougal and the cubs.

Graham growled at Matt and Kyle, and they seemed to understand him. They scooted underneath his belly, Graham so large that they had plenty of room. Graham started forward, the cubs giving a series of yelps. Guiding him in the right direction, Misty thought.

She came behind, careful not to shine the light in front of Graham. Once they’d gone a few more yards, the darkness was complete. Misty couldn’t even see the square of light from outside behind her.

Graham stopped, and Misty nearly ran into him. He started again as soon as she drew near his big back, and he rumbled at her. She interpreted that he wanted her to stay close.

Another few steps, and she began to feel dizzy. The cubs whimpered. Graham stopped, and this time, Misty did run into him.

Misty put her hand on Graham’s strong back, taking comfort in him. The cubs were whining louder, scared.

The flashlight’s light snapped off. Misty shook the flashlight, but it was dead. Darkness fell upon her like a shroud. Her first instinct was panic, but she had Graham’s warm body under her hands. She was safe. Graham could see in the dark, and he’d protect her.