Wild Instincts - Complete Edition (Werewolf Erotic Romance) Page 14

  "Probably a feral." Agatha nodded grimly. "If a wolf can't find a pack they don't usually know what to do with themselves. If their instinct's strong they don't understand how to handle it, sometimes the poor creatures end up more like animals than humans."

  I carried on with my story, telling her how I'd run into Cyan's pack and, having little choice in the matter, ended up staying with them. I was careful to omit the more sensitive personal details. I wasn't comfortable speaking about Ellie or the situation back home, and Agatha didn't need to know how my instinct had forced me into a strained and sexually intense relationship with my alpha.

  I wasn't a good liar, though, and my attempts to skirt around the subject of my instinct became increasingly awkward as my story went on. She had to have guessed that there was something making me uncomfortable, and as the topic of mine and Thorne's abandonment of our pack loomed closer I realised I would have to come clean about it at some point. Agatha didn't push me, she just sat, listening, her pale blue eyes impassive in the flickering light of the fire.

  "The reason we left was... because of my instinct," I said at last.

  Agatha raised her eyebrows, her patient expression broken by a look of curiosity. "Your instinct?"

  I nodded.

  "Really now. I thought for sure it would have been Hawthorne's," she said.

  "He's much better at controlling his than I am. He never even looked at another female the whole time he was with our pack."

  "Before you, of course."

  I bit my lip, and nodded. "He wasn't the one who caused all the problems, it was me. Cyan was— he used my instinct to keep me in line. I hated it. I kept disobeying him until I pushed it too far, and Thorne got caught up in the whole thing."

  "I suppose your instinct's a problematic one, then?"

  I nodded again and took a deep breath, unsettled by the experience of reliving everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks. So much had transpired in such a short time, and I'd barely given myself the space to reflect on it before now. "I'm in heat, all the time. I can control it for a few days, maybe a bit longer since Thorne gave me his help, but sooner or later I need to be with a male." I looked down at the ground, fingering the seam of the cushion between my crossed legs.

  "And nobody helped you deal with it?" Agatha said at length.

  I shook my head.

  "That's the trouble with these new packs," she sighed. "A group of young werewolves come together with no idea about what they are or how to handle it, and then stories like yours happen. Tsch, it's a wonder poor Hawthorne managed as well as he did with them."

  "They weren't a bad pack." I lifted my head, frowning.

  "I'm sure they weren't." Agatha reached down to take my hand and gave it a squeeze, the grip of her wrinkled fingers surprisingly strong. "I've helped a lot of young werewolves like you, Lyssa. We all have to struggle with our animal sides, and our pack has always made it a priority to help others control their instincts. If you let us, we'll help you control yours."

  "What's your instinct?" I said suddenly. "...Building weird tents?"

  Agatha chuckled and straightened up again, reclining back in her seat. "Just after I was bitten—oh, I must have been about ten years old back then—I helped the others plant the trees in the orchard we have here. When one of the saplings wilted and died I stayed in my cabin for a week crying. I'd never been so upset about anything in my entire life, and I didn't have a clue why this one sapling was so special. I was terrified that whenever I lost something I cared about the same thing would happen all over again, and I hated my instinct for making me care so much. But, as I grew up, I learned to deal with it. I realised that caring a lot about something is never a bad thing. I still get sad, even now, but nothing makes me happier than nurturing a tree, or a project, or a person, and watching them blossom." A wistful smile spread across her lips. "No instinct is wholly bad, Lyssa. We just need to learn how to handle the bad alongside the good."

  I carried on fiddling with the cushion. "Well, let me know if you ever figure out what the upside to my instinct is," I said. It was a bittersweet reassurance.

  "That's exactly what I intend to do, if you decide to stay with us, of course."

  I let out a strained breath. "The Wood Pack sounds like everything Cyan's pack wasn't."

  "But?"

  I looked Agatha in the eyes, swallowing hard. "But I'm not staying without Thorne." It was even harder to say now, after everything I'd seen and heard this morning. I could understand why Thorne had been happy here, and the idea of us living together in such a seemingly friendly, supportive environment was more than I'd ever dreamed of. I liked Agatha, but I couldn't agree to anything without Thorne.

  "Ahh. I'd tell you you're being hasty and impulsive, but I know how these things are when you're young."

  "I can't just let him go, not now."

  Agatha leaned forward, clasping her hands together and looking at me intently. "To tell you the truth, Lyssa, there's nothing I'd like more than to have Hawthorne back with us as well. He was always such a sweet boy. If it hadn't been for his instinct I'd have bet my life on him becoming alpha some day."

  "He's changed since back then. He can control his instinct now, just like you said you controlled yours. I've seen it make him strong rather than driving him wild."

  "I hope you're right, but it'll take a lot to make Rowan forgive him. I don't know if all the reasoning in the world, even from me, could make him forget what Hawthorne did to Niya. He did tell you about her, didn't he?"

  "Yes, but that was a long time ago. Niya doesn't blame him, Thorne showed me his letters from her."

  A soft smile touched Agatha's lips, something almost sorrowful in her expression. "I never knew she still stayed in contact with him after everything that happened. I suppose that was for the best. Rowan wouldn't have liked it if he found out. The three of them were very good friends, you know. When Rowan became alpha I could tell he wanted Hawthorne to be his second in command one day. It wasn't just that your boyfriend broke the rules, or put the pack in danger; it was that he made Rowan question his own judgement. No alpha ever likes to think that they've made a bad decision, or misjudged someone. He isn't going to forgive Hawthorne easily for what he did. There's too much troubling him right now. I expect that's why he's waiting to make his mind up about the whole thing."

  "You'll have to help me persuade him," I said, daring to believe that, with Agatha's help, there might be hope for Thorne yet. "We could speak to Niya, too, wouldn't she vouch for him?"

  Agatha shook her head. "Niya's not one to cause a fuss, but you can try. I can't imagine what the poor girl's thinking now that he's back." She paused, as though sensing my impatience. "The Wood Pack take their time with big decisions, Lyssa. Whether this works out well for Hawthorne or not, you're going to be here with us for a while."

  I took a deep breath, trying to gather up my thoughts again, and nodded. "I suppose that means I'll have to follow all your rules?"

  "You'll be pleased to know we don't have many of those. Just try not to rock the boat too much, and I'm sure Rowan will be happy to let you stay. That means staying away from the orchard and that man of yours."

  It was difficult, but I made myself bob my head again. I'd made so many life-altering decisions lately based on my emotions and impulses. As hard as it might be, I wanted to try and play things carefully for once. Without Thorne around to be my voice of reason, I felt almost obliged to. He'd tell me to listen to Agatha, stay safe, and avoid provoking Rowan. I already had one alpha who'd driven me out for defying him, the last thing I needed was another. It might not be easy, but after days on the run it was about time I settled back and took things slow.

  "Good." Agatha smiled. "I think you'll be very happy staying with us, Lyssa, for however long that might be. One more thing, before I let you go." She reached down into a satchel propped up against the side of her chair and drew out a thick, unevenly shaped sheet of paper and a pencil, tearing off a cor
ner and scribbling down a quick note. Once she was done she folded the scrap and handed it to me. "Give this to my grandson on your way out."

  "Blondie's your grandson?" I blurted out, the made-up name I'd given him tripping off my tongue before I could stop myself.

  Agatha chuckled at me. "Ethan is what most people call him, but yes, that's the one."

  "I thought werewolves hardly ever had kids? I've never met one with children, let alone grandchildren."

  "Everything's possible with enough time and dedication, and the right mate," she said. "He made me that awful totem outside my tent when he was a teenager, you know. He said it was "cool", and I didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise." Agatha rose from her seat and helped my up with another grasp of those surprisingly strong hands. "Go on now Lyssa, you go and get yourself settled into our pack. And try not to worry yourself too much over Hawthorne."

  "Thank you." I gave the old woman a smile. It was impossible for me not to worry, but our conversation had given me a sense of reassurance that I hadn't felt in a long while. With someone like Agatha watching over them, I had a hard time believing the Wood Pack could be anything other than a decent, respectable group of werewolves. At the very least, this seemed a far cry from the harsh leadership of Cyan.

  When I stepped out of the tent I found Blondie—or Ethan—sitting on a tree stump with another golden-haired male who looked to be our age as well. I expected he was the other wolf I'd seen flanking Rowan when he'd found us the night before. The new arrival was crouched behind Ethan whispering something in his ear, and the pair of them were grinning as they shared their secret amusement. I edged around the totem, nowhere near as intimidated by it now, and walked over to them, holding out Agatha's note to Ethan as he gave me a bright smile.

  "What's this then?" he said.

  "I don't know, it's from your grandma. She said to give it to you."

  I crossed my arms as he unfolded the note and read it, his companion hopping off the stump and brushing his golden hair out of his eyes, giving me a friendly wink.

  "It says that you should come and see us if you have any trouble with your instinct," Ethan said, looking back up at me.

  I flushed, noticing his playful blue eyes for the first time. My instinct had been pleasantly quiet since last night, but if Thorne was going to be out of reach for more than a few days...

  "So what's your instinct, and how am I going to help you with it?" he asked, noticing my discomfort.

  I cleared my throat. "I'll... let you know if it becomes a problem." I didn't like the idea of being with another male, not now that Thorne and I really seemed to be getting somewhere. I wasn't his mate, and I knew my instinct had to be taken care of, but even so, it was an uncomfortable thought. Ethan shrugged and tucked the note into his pocket, rising to his feet.

  "Well then, I guess that means you'll be staying with us for a while." He gestured to his friend. "This is my good companion Sirrus, and I'm Ethan. You're going to have a lot of new names to learn."

  "Let's just stick with the two of you for now," I said. "I'm not deciding anything until I get to speak to Thorne."

  "Ah. Word of advice," he beckoned me in and lowered his voice slightly, "I wouldn't go bothering Rowan about that. He's been brooding in his cabin all night, snapping at anyone who dares say a word to him about Thorne. Best to just leave him to it when he's like this."

  "Then I want to speak to someone called Niya."

  Ethan shook his head and let out a long, whistling breath. "Again, not sure if that's the best idea. Niya doesn't like talking about what happened between her and Thorne. Besides, she's not around at the moment. Last I heard she was out hunting with some of the others. It might be a few days before she's back."

  I glanced around the hilltop camp area, drumming my fingers against my arm in agitation. "Then what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

  "Take a look around, relax, settle in. I figure you've earned it after being on the run from the Mine Pack."

  Any other time I would've adored the opportunity to have a few days to myself, free to relax and unwind, but with Thorne's future hanging in the balance it seemed like a long, agonising wait stretching out before me.

  I tried to take Ethan's advice and settle in. I was in a new place, getting to know new people—and not just any new people, but a pack of werewolves who seemed to have their lives organised to a degree I'd never have thought possible. There was always someone fresh to speak to, some fascinating new part of their hidden society to see, but as hard as I tried I just couldn't get Thorne out of my thoughts. The gnawing worry of what might happen to him when Rowan finally made up his mind kept me awake at nights, following me around like a ghost during the day, threatening to catch up with me and drive me into a state of near-panic whenever I was alone and let my thoughts wander. It was an ever-present concern hanging over me like a cloud, preventing me from truly appreciating the beauty of the place the Wood Pack called home, and the pleasant company of the people who lived there.

  The urge to slip away and find Thorne was growing stronger. I'd seen the path leading down from the camp, beyond the hilly area and into the meadows where I knew the orchard must be. I expected they had someone watching Thorne, but the Wood Pack weren't an organised military unit. I was sure I could slip away without anyone noticing and sneak down to the orchard. I began to run through all sorts of dangerous scenarios in my head, how I might break open a lock on a door, what supplies we'd need to make a run for it, how far we could get before the others realised we were gone...

  Even in my most optimistic fantasies it didn't seem like any escape attempt could possibly end well for us. It was stupid, and worse, I was beginning to enjoy the company of these people. They were good, honest, welcoming werewolves, and the idea of betraying their hospitality made me feel queasy. Their camp seemed like a place where Thorne and I could genuinely be happy together, but any attempt to escape with him would utterly ruin any chance we had.

  Despite all of my rationalising, my impatience and agitation only continued to grow. Every day that passed with Rowan still locked up in his cabin, refusing to make a decision, was another day for my imagination to run wild about all the terrible things that might happen when he finally settled on what to do with Thorne.

  The urge to do something reckless was growing, and it was compounded by the steady nudge of my instinct flickering up inside me. I struggled to keep it under control, repeating the same exercises Thorne had taught me, thinking of Ellie and home and my old life, filling my head with as many human thoughts as possible. I went out by myself to find quiet spots where I could focus, away from the sounds and scents of other wolves, but I was only exchanging one wild environment for another, with the whistling wind and the musty, fragrant smell of nature as my companions.

  Out there in the wilderness, a hundred miles from the familiar sights and sounds I'd grown up with, it was impossible to put the feral part of my mind completely at rest. When I looked out over the meadows I had the urge to run. When I caught sight of an animal flitting through the trees my hunter's eyes immediately began tracking it, and when I caught the scent of another male my thoughts were inexorably drawn to unsettling, carnal places.

  It was becoming hard to focus again. It felt as though the tension from my journey had been exchanged for another type of anxiety, this time without any tangible goal for me to focus on or direct my energies towards. My wolf's impatient, impulsive urges began to cloud my thoughts, making the idea of going to find Thorne seem ever more appealing and my rational judgement less and less of a concern.

  I could feel it happening, and still I resisted the urge to go to Ethan. I held off until I found myself hunched up in a ball on my mattress one day, shaking with the effort of trying to wrestle my wolf back into submission. When I finally had a handle on myself again, I realised I didn't have any choice left. If I didn't put my instinct to rest, I wouldn't be able to last the night without the urge to run out and find my desired mate becoming t
oo much to handle. My wolf didn't just want any male, she wanted Thorne, and with no indication of Rowan reaching his decision any time soon, I had run out of options.

  It was a surprisingly warm evening, one of those leftover summer days that still hung around as autumn pressed on. I put on a loose knee-length gown of soft animal skin that had been left for me in my lodge, slipping a pair of leather sandals over my bare feet before I went out. The rest of the Wood Pack were lounging around in the series of communal areas they used to eat, work, and socialise in, enjoying the weather while they still had the chance. I could feel my instinct threatening to boil over in my belly, barely hearing the polite greetings the others sent my way as I made my way from one campfire to the next, searching for any sign of Ethan. I finally found him with his companion Sirrus again, the pair of them leafing through a large, age-worn book as they sat curled together amongst the roots of a tree. He snapped the book shut as I approached, smiling brightly as I sat down on a root beside them.

  "Lyssa, you're looking lovely this evening! What can we do for you?"

  I glanced at Sirrus briefly, but I was too distracted to be coy. "It's about my instinct," I said. "I need your help, now."

  Ethan's expression softened, and he climbed up to the root next to me. "We'd be happy to help."

  "I only..." I felt a warm flush rising to my cheeks. "I only need one of you."

  "It's alright, Lyssa," Sirrus said, shuffling over to me as well. "Agatha only has one reason for sending girls with troubling instincts our way. We know."

  "You do?" My voice sounded dull and thick in my ears. Ethan was holding my hand now, and the touch of his skin against mine had me tingling.

  "You're not the only werewolf who's ever had that particular instinct. We've got somewhere we can go. Satisfying, straightforward, no strings attached. I promise."

  "Both of you?" I said.

  Ethan grinned. "If you want. He'd get jealous if you took me off all by yourself. Besides, we might as well enjoy ourselves, hm?"