Hannah Pole - Silence of the Wolves

‘Because.’

‘Because what?’ OK, Tam, stop irritating the big man who could rip you apart in a heartbeat. The problem was her stubbornness. Now she was physically unable to run, to save herself, she might as well ask and get answers.

‘Tamriel,’ he cautioned her.

‘Leyth. If you’re going to kidnap me and keep my against my will in my own home , then you’re damn well going to give me some answers.’

He blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I know your father.’

Tam sucked in a sharp breath. And another.

‘Like hell you do,’ she hissed eventually. Looking directly into those icy-grey eyes, she willed him to take it back, to cut the crap and tell her the truth but, even as she forced herself through the age-old pain, through the horror she’d felt all the years after losing her father, she sensed no lie in his words. His eyes stayed locked onto hers, open and honest, gleaming with what? Regret?

‘Tamriel. I know John Chambers, I know your dad.’

‘My dad is dead,’ she spat, wincing as the motion sent pain reverberating through her body.

‘He’s not, Tamriel. Your dad left you when you were young because he had to go on a mission for the Council.’

‘The what? No. You’re lying. My dad died.’

‘Look, I hate that you’re finding out this way. I hate that you have to find out. But your dad left years ago to go under cover for the Council. He went to infiltrate the Circle and no one has seen or heard from him since.’

‘Prove it.’

‘I…’ He winced. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘I, uh—’ He motioned to his almost-naked state. ‘I lost my clothes.’

She snorted. Though it hurt like hell, her body screaming in agony as her stomach moved, it actually felt good to laugh. Not that she would admit it at a time like this. But hell, this man, this crazy kidnapping man, actually made her feel safe. Lord only knew why, but she just couldn’t help but like him a little. She hated that she did, hated everything about her treacherous mind; she wanted to scream in terror, she wanted to run as far and as fast as she could. She wanted to hate him with everything she had.

But if she was truly honest with herself?

She didn’t.

She found herself smiling at him. Although he was scary as hell, he held himself like a man with honour and she could see him doing everything he physically could to seem as non-threatening as possible.

And on top of that, the reporter in her wanted to be here, wanted to find the story here, to find the answers to the thousands of questions she had crowding her mind. Wanted to work out exactly what was going on. And if she was really honest with herself? Would she really run if she wasn’t badly injured? Would she really try to escape? She wasn’t sure that she wanted to know the answer.

Tam didn’t believe that he was lying about her father, but she didn’t necessarily think he actually knew him. Her father was dead. And that was all there was to it. Right now? She didn’t really want to think about it either.

‘So the branch went straight through my stomach?’

‘Yeah, it was really bad.’ He eyed her. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like crap. But surely if I was impaled by wood, I should feel worse.’ She fingered the sheet covering her. She did feel like hell. Every part of her hurt. It was a pain so intense that she could barely wiggle her toes, yet she was sure that if she really had been on the worse side of a large stick she should be unconscious, battling for her life. Not sat on her own sofa, chit-chatting with a kidnapper.

‘Tamriel.’ Leyth heaved a great breath, like he was gearing up for the mother of all conversations. ‘You are wolf.’

‘Sure,’ she snorted, though it came out strangled. Fear and confusion prickled up her spine once more. He had to be lying. He had to be playing a trick on her.

‘You are. And the sooner you get to grips with that, the better.’

‘You’re lying.’ She hated how hoarse her voice sounded. Hell, he had to be lying. Werewolves didn’t exist. They didn’t. But, hell, even as she forced herself to believe that, the voice in the back of her mind told her he spoke the truth. It made sense after all. Her father had always been so strict about the strangest of things; don’t go out in the woods alone, don’t watch the sunrise, don’t look directly at the full moon. Don’t play with wolves.

Come to think of it, her family home had been covered in pictures of wolves; one wolf in particular. A huge brown wolf with dark-brown eyes, and there had been photos of her mother sitting with her arm around it, pictures of the wolf running in the woodland. She’d always been drawn to wolves.

‘So you’re a werewolf?’

‘Well, yes, but we don’t call ourselves werewolves. We’re just wolves. The nickname the media gave us is frankly offensive.’

‘OK, so you’re a wolf?’

‘Yes.’

‘Prove it.’

Leyth could hear the slight tremor in her voice, could see the ever so slight tremble in her hand as she gripped the sheet covering her. She really didn’t want to believe it. She was fighting every instinct she had and he could see the turmoil behind those beautiful eyes.

‘Right.’ She took a deep, shuddery breath. ‘ If this is real, and I’m not saying I believe you, I just want to know how you do it.’

‘OK, I can—’

‘Don’t speak.’ She cut him off. ‘You don’t get to speak right now. You don’t get to do anything. Just let me figure this out. There has to be an explanation.’

He could see her trying not to panic. Her eyes were wide and filled with a combination of fear and cold determination, her hands trembling and her heart racing. She was trying to control the situation, trying to find the facts hidden beneath the magic.

‘Right. Move, over there. Where I can see you.’ He followed her orders, gingerly walking into the middle of her living room and stopping in the spot she had indicated.

‘Now do it, turn yourself into a wolf.’

Leyth silently hid a grin. Tam was making him shift into wolf right in front of her, in a completely open space so there was no way he could hide any ‘tricks’.

She was smart. She was making sure it was a true change, not a trick of the brain.

‘OK, I’m going to shift now,’ Leyth said calmly, bending down onto his knees and calling the wolf at his core, who came happily bounding to the surface. Leyth tried his best to shift slowly, to make the change happen in a way that she could watch and attempt to understand.

His bones began to crack and writhe within his skin. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe as the change took him. It was as intense as an orgasm; the feeling overwhelmed you, forced you to be still, to do nothing but ride out the waves of pain and ecstasy. It was all he could feel, all he could think of. Slowly his bones began to split, to bow and break, reforming into that of the wolf; his legs shortened, his ribcage collapsed, his shoulders dislocated and shifted downwards to their new position. His spine began to lengthen, forming a skinny tail as his face began to collapse and rebuild itself, forming a muzzle. His ears stretched and shifted, rising to the top of his head before, finally, the itching began. His skin distorted and writhed, giving way to black and grey fur that broke out of his pores in waves, covering him from nose to tail.

When it was finally over, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at Tamriel, who had turned even paler. If that was physically possible.

‘H-h-oly shit,’ she stammered, her eyes wide and wild.

‘Come here,’ she commanded. ‘Slowly.’ Though it came out gently, almost a whisper, as she tried to digest the situation. Leyth did as she asked and came to stand next to her. She was sat on the sofa, wrapped in a myriad of blankets. She carefully ran a hand across his fur, wincing as she moved.