Raised by Wolves(38)

“Alison.”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who got the full-first-name treatment. “You’ve never brought her back irreparably harmed,” Ali admitted grudgingly. “This better not be a first.”

The other Weres in the room, including Casey, narrowed their eyes at her, their backs stiffening. My pack-sense told me that they didn’t like the challenge to our alpha’s authority. It was unnatural. Ungodly. Impertinent. When Ali married Casey, she should have adopted his status in the pack, but she’d lived among them for too long without a place in the hierarchy to settle into one now, and her challenge rankled. At the very least, Casey should have known what he was getting into with Ali; she’d never made even the least effort to hide her lack of respect for pack tradition.

“Ali—” Casey started to say something, but the look on her face stopped him cold, and a wave of calm—originating from Callum—went through the room.

“I’ll take care of her, Alison,” Callum said, dispelling Ali’s worries even as he calmed the wolves.

I always do.

Ali nodded, and then without another word, she walked out of the room. Callum turned his attention to me. “From the moment we leave this house, I’m invoking the second condition of your permissions. Sora, Casey, and Lance are dominant. You are not. Whatever they say, you do it. Whatever they tell you, you comply. There is no room for argument, no room for discussion, and there will be no leniency for disobedience. You’re Pack and you’ll act like it. Am I clear?”

In retrospect, it was a really good thing Ali had left when she did. And probably also not a coincidence that Callum had waited for her to leave before laying down the law, because I saw in his eyes that he wasn’t guaranteeing my safety, not in all things. Chase wouldn’t lay fang, claw, or hand on me, but I knew what happened to subordinate wolves who challenged dominance.

It wasn’t pretty.

“You’re clear, Alpha.”

Callum nodded, and we left, the five of us. I took a page from Lance’s book and didn’t say a word, and the others followed suit. Understanding passed between us, though—silent words and thoughts and feelings. The rumblings of their wolves; the butterflies in my stomach. I fingered the knives strapped to my side, seeking comfort in the familiar.

I don’t know what I expected when we got to Callum’s house, but it wasn’t to see Chase sitting on Callum’s couch, playing Grand Theft Auto, his fingers moving the controller with frightening accuracy, even when he turned away from the screen and looked directly at me.

“Hi, Bryn.”

He was a far cry from the boy I remembered, caged in the basement, shadows in his eyes. But when I looked at him, really looked at him, I could almost see them. Almost, but not quite.

He just looked so normal.

Then again, so did I.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Callum said. “You have an hour.”

I realized with a start that Callum was leaving. To give us privacy? Or as much privacy as anyone with three lupine nannies could have?

No. There must have been another reason for it. Callum didn’t do anything without a reason, but I decided that I could debate his motivations and intentions later. Right now, I had an hour.

“Ummm … can I sit down?” I wasn’t sure who I was addressing the question to—the other wolves, or Chase. The latter nodded and brought his legs down off the couch. I started to move forward, but a deep rumbling from Lance’s lips held me back.

Apparently, this was the kind of thing that a submissive needed permission for.

I paused, and the three guards exchanged a look. “Chase, move to the chair. Bryn, stay on the couch. You’re not to touch each other.” Sora spoke each word with an emphasis that made me think that she was considering the way she verbalized the orders very, very carefully.

I ingested them, internalized them, and let my pack-sense get a grip on them. Obey. Obey. Obey. I had to obey.

Moving swiftly and with what I hoped passed for some amount of grace, I took up the spot Sora had indicated, and Chase slid over to the chair. His movements were so smooth that they were nearly liquid. He didn’t move. He flowed. Chase may have made progress in learning to control what he was, but he still wasn’t able to hide it. I didn’t think anyone could look at him and not know that there was something different. That he was more.

“So … ummmm … how’s it been?” I asked.

I cursed Ali for snapping me back into myself enough that the words didn’t come automatically, that my first instinct was entirely human: to make small talk. I wanted answers. I wanted to push at his bond with the pack, to explore it, to get inside his head and absorb everything he knew, but I didn’t.