Raised by Wolves(46)

No asking Chase about the method with which another Rabid had torn him limb from limb.

“How are you?” I asked, feeling even more muzzled than I had the last time I’d been in his presence.

“Good,” Chase replied. I’ve got control, he added silently. Nobody in my thoughts but me. Most of the time.

His voice was clearer in my mind than anyone else’s had ever been, and I knew I wasn’t imagining that there was more than a pack-bond between us. I didn’t feel him in my hip, in Callum’s Mark.

I felt him in my stomach and in my lungs. I breathed him in and out and saw him in my mind, in memories he’d had no part of the first time around.

“I had finals today,” I said. The words were insufficient and irrelevant, but as they exited my mouth, my guards relaxed. They didn’t mind me talking to Chase the boy. They just wanted me to stay away from his wolf. Away from the night of its birth, bloody and cruel.

“I don’t miss finals,” Chase said. “Come to think of it, I don’t really miss people, either.”

“You don’t miss being human?” I asked. It was one thing to watch the Weres lose their human selves on the day of the full moon, to watch the wolf slowly taking hold of Callum’s body, or Devon’s, but it was another thing altogether to imagine going from being what I was to the thing that Chase was now.

It could have been me. The thought broadsided me. Chase sat on his chair like a lion lounging on the savannah. Like a wolf, sprawled across wet forest ground. His limbs dangled off the side. His eyes took in everything, flitting between my body and that of my guards.

It could have been me.

“I don’t miss being human.” Chase paused, the human holding back words that his wolf wanted him to say. “I miss you.”

The air between us turned to static, and I felt his pull—magnetic and uncontrollable. On edge between human and not.

Concentrate, I told myself. I hadn’t come here to picture his life before he’d changed. I hadn’t come here to commune with his wolf or wonder if it was a feeling like this that had coerced generations of human females to leave their families for a chance at dying while giving birth to werewolf pups.

I’m not that kind of girl, I told Chase silently.

He shrugged, and I wondered if he even knew what I was talking about, if he had even the vaguest measure of the power calling to my body from his.

“Callum said not to touch you,” Chase remarked. “You don’t smell like meat anymore.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of either of those observations, but I saw other things in the blue of his eyes: control that hadn’t been there the last time we met. And loneliness, the kind that had no business existing in the middle of a werewolf pack.

“What happened to the wolf who attacked you?” Every time I wanted to ask him a question about the attack, I asked him about his life instead, and now that I wanted to tell him that he wasn’t alone, the other questions slipped easily off my tongue.

“He ran off.”

“Is he dead?” I addressed this question to my guards. “Did we hunt him down?”

Sora’s response came almost immediately. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that, Bryn.”

That wasn’t an answer. It was an order. They were ordering me not to concern myself with the Rabid—the reason I’d come here to Chase in the first place.

“I call him Prancer.” Chase saved me from complete and utter frustration. At least he had the ability and force of will to stay on topic.

“You call the werewolf who attacked you, almost killed you, and Changed you Prancer?” I asked.

“I had to stop being scared sometime. Give the boogeyman a name, and he goes away.” Chase shrugged and then continued on in my head. Callum taught me how to keep him out of my mind, but you can’t change the memories. I sleep, and he’s there. When I dream, he’s got me exactly where he wants me, and there’s not a blessed thing I can do about it. But then I wake up, and he’s Prancer. He can’t control my thoughts. He can’t make me scared. Not without my permission.

“Is Chase talking to you?” Sora asked me. “Silently?”

I wasn’t sure how she could tell. Maybe she read it in my change in posture, as my body shifted itself toward him, all of its own accord. Maybe she saw it in my face, or felt it through the pack-bond. In any case, I didn’t want to answer the question, but Sora pushed at me, coming forward and placing her hands on my knees, leaning over me in a way that made me lean back.

She was dominant. It wasn’t just a word. It wasn’t just a concept. It was real, and at the moment, I couldn’t have lied to her if I’d wanted to, agreement or no. “Yes.”