Page 8 of A Pack of Lies and a Big Bad Wolf

I stay on my own porch, struggling to settle my wolf.

It might look like I've been running from her all day. The truth is, it’s taken every ounce of my self-control to avoid her, but I have to, or I’ll overwhelm her. She’s a proud, stubborn woman, and she’s not going to roll right over for me. I need to take a little time to woo her. And my wolf is pissed.

He wants to go over there right now, kick the door down, and start rubbing his scent on every surface in the room. He's been screaming variations of claim her since the minute I laid eyes on her, getting louder every hour, and my only response so far has been not yet on a loop.

My wolf is pure animal. My human side has to use reason.

I’d love to just growl orders at her – move in with me, now! – but she’s the one shifter I’ve ever met who would just laugh in my face. That’s probably what makes her perfect for me.

Fate sure has a sadistic sense of humor.

With a groan of frustration, I sit on my own porch, in my own chair, and refrain from clawing at her door like an animal.

***

Amaryllis's office sits at the edge of the greenhouse row, glass structures catching the morning light behind her building. Inside, the shelves are packed floor to ceiling — dried moonveil for sleep, twists of emberroot bundled for nausea, hushbell blossoms for cramps. Runes sit in labeled trays, magically charged for more serious and exotic ailments.

Amaryllis is joined by two of our other healers, Peyton and Gemma. They’re our cousins and Bram’s younger sisters. They’re both in their twenties and bear the Holt family physical resemblance, looking a lot like my sister with thick brows and gray eyes. They’re sitting in office chairs, smiling sympathetically, notebooks in hand.

Stephen Crowley sits across the desk from Amaryllis, spine ramrod straight, hands folded in his lap. She’s already done some of the examination – and what she found is encouraging.

“The fact that we found your wolf, a faint version of your wolf, is everything,” Amaryllis says. “It gives us hope. I am being honest when I tell you I’ve never seen a wolf hidden like this, and I don’t understand why. But you have one. Part of what may help heal you is just being here, because this land has very strong ley line energy, but that alone isn’t enough. I need information.”

“Anything!” His head bobs enthusiastically.

"I need you to fill out everything you can on this," Amaryllis says, sliding a blank family tree across the desk. "Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles. Anyone who ever had trouble shifting, even a little. Late bloomers, early bloomers, anyone who just seemed off."

Stephen picks up the pen, shaking his head glumly. "Nobody in our family ever had this problem. My father sure pointed that out again and again.”

She nods with a supportive smile. I don’t know where the hell she got her ‘nice’ genes. Probably from our mother’s side of the family. My mother was a famously kind, decent woman who cared about everyone before herself - and look where that got her. And us.

I scowl. It doesn’t bear thinking about. My mother made her mistakes. I won’t let Amaryllis make the same mistakes.

"Has anyone in your family ever been sick around puberty? Missed a lot of school? Anything that got explained away?" Amaryllis asks.

“No, nobody.” He smiles ruefully.

The door bangs open and Olivia rushes in. Her gaze lights on her brother. "Stephen, you're here! Bram told me. I didn't know you'd arrived. When did you get here? I was waiting for your call.”

"Sorry, Liv. I started out early, and got here an hour ago," Stephen says, looking a little sheepish. "They took me straight here.”

Olivia rounds on me, glaring. "Why didn't you tell me he was here? I was starting to worry."

I shrug. "You were eating breakfast. I didn't see the need to bother you.” God knows she could put some pounds on. She’s wired tight with stress and looks like she hasn’t been fed well in years.

My wolf hates that. So do I. She’s our mate, it’s our job to care for her, to make sure she’s fed and pampered and cared for. If she’s hungry, it hurts us.

Olivia’s blue eyes blaze with fury. "That's not your call to make."

I meet her gaze coolly. "Actually, everything in Cedar Run is my call to make."

That earns me a skeptical look from Olivia. “There are two other packs who make up the town, aren’t there? Moonstone and Frostbane.”

I stifle a curl of my lip at the mention of Frostbane. “True,” I agree. “But if anything affects one pack, it affects all three of us, so yes, everything in this territory is my concern.” Day and night. Even when I’m relaxing on market days, I’m never really relaxed. I’m just a micro-milliliter less stressed, but still always scanning, watching, waiting for disaster.

“That sounds like a lot.” The soft undercurrent of sympathy in her voice startles me. It seems to startle her too. She straightens her shoulders and looks me right in the eye, something very few shifters in our pack dare to do. “But again, this is my brother, and I have the right to be informed about anything that involves him.”

“Agree to disagree.” I shrug.