My wolf buffs, ignoring his command.
And tries to leave the shower instead.
He grabs me by the scruff to pull me back. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re filthy from that cage and the ocean. And since you refuse to let your human take over, I’m bathing you.” He uses his grip to force my eyes to his. “And if you’re a good girl, I may even brush you.”
I shiver inside.
Something about that promise feels so… intimate.
He releases my scruff to stroke a hand down my neck to my throat. “I see you in there, little one,” he whispers, his intense blue eyes holding mine. “I know your wolf has taken over. We’ll help you regain control.”
His soft voice soothes some ache deep inside me.
Until I remember his name.
Tieran Black.
The monster who slaughtered his mate.
His eyes narrow as though he can read my mind.
Or maybe he can smell my fear.
Rather than comment on it, he guides my wolf beneath the water again and proceeds to bathe her. She yelps and growls a few times, but he doesn’t snarl back like before. He just runs his fingers through my fur, massaging a woodsy scent into my coat.
It reminds me of pine trees.
I want to inhale it, to bathe in it, but my wolf is too busy sputtering as the water touches her snout. She is not a fan of this experience at all, not understanding the intimacy of having an Alpha take care of her, or respecting his patience as he rinses away the suds.
She just keeps yipping at him.
Which earns her a rap on the nose. “Quiet, errant one.”
I almost snort. Because I’ve called her that once or twice already.
“I will never understand why the Nantahala Wolves choose to suppress their females for so long,” he mutters, making me freeze inside.
You know what I am?
“If you were raised in my pack, you would have started shifting around age five. We consider our animal forms sacred, and we embrace them at a young age to avoid the possibility of disassociation.” He turns off the water to grab a towel. “But I suspect your males do this as a way to control you. To make sure you have to rely on them to be one with your beast.”
My wolf growls a little as he starts patting her down, clearly not appreciating the manhandling.
He sighs and spreads the towel out on the floor. “Want to dry yourself, then?” he asks, standing.
She stares at the offering, allowing me to see the splash of white cotton against the obsidian marble floor. Then she dives into it as though she expects it to be a big fluffy cloud and starts rolling around, happily scenting herself off his towel.
The Alpha chuckles, clearly amused. “Well, as sad as it makes me to see a shifter be so far separated from her animal, I’ll admit you’re kinda cute.”
My wolf huffs.
“Very cute,” he corrects, squatting to rub my now exposed belly. “Are you going to let me brush you, pet?”
My heart skips a beat.
Or it feels like it does, anyway.
Because the way he said that shoots warmth through every inch of my being. If I were in control, my body would be on fire right now.
My wolf sits up and cocks her head, clearly interested in his tone.
He sits on the floor, his jeans still sopping wet, and leans back against the sink cabinet behind him. Then he meets my gaze again as he lifts a hand toward my neck.
I can’t see what he’s doing because my wolf is staring him down, but I feel the comb gliding through my fur. I almost purr with delight, the sensation making me want to lay down and let him do whatever he wants with me.
His reputation haunted my teenage years, following me into adulthood.
Yet I can’t help but give into the sensation he’s evoking now.
I’ve never experienced anything like it, and it’s… it’s heavenly.
I sigh, as does my wolf, leaning into his touch as he chuckles again. “You just need a little love,” he says. “Maybe that’ll help calm you down enough for your human to take charge for a bit, hmm?”
My animal doesn’t seem to hear him or care what he’s saying. She’s too lost to his touch.
But I hear him.
And I understand just fine.
He wants to encourage my wolf to retreat, to allow me to shift. Because he knows she’s in charge.
Why? I wonder. Why are you helping me? And how do you know?
Is this normal?
Do females often find themselves disassociated from their wolves?
I’ve never heard about it in my pack, but it would explain why so many females weren’t allowed to shift, even after their mating.
Or maybe… maybe they didn’t want to shift for this very reason.
Why would my pack design this failure? I understand the point of focusing on procreation and ensuring the health of the children, but this feels debilitating.
Controlling, I think, recalling what Tieran said about how males probably do this to control their mates.
My insides burn for an entirely different reason now.
My mother always said it was about letting the males think they’re in charge.
But they suppressed our wolves on purpose.
They told us it was natural, that all packs did this.
Tieran said his pack started shifting at age five, something I wouldn’t be inclined to believe given his reputation. Except I saw pups running around on Wolfe Island.
Female pups.
Which means that even if Tieran is lying to me, so was Alpha Bryson. So were my mother and father and my entire damn pack.
And while I know Tieran’s reputation, I’m almost inclined to believe he’s not lying because he has no reason to. He’s helping me. He’s the only one who has been able to sense my disassociation and give me potential causes for it.
“That fire in your gaze is beautiful,” he murmurs, drawing my attention to him. “I can almost feel your anger, little wolf. Do you want me to help you shift back? Because I can. But it’ll hurt. Forcing a shift always does, which is why Alphas tend to shy away from it.”
I blink at him.
Or my wolf does, anyway.
Or maybe it’s me.
It’s hard to say. I feel so disconnected and lost that I’m not sure what is up or down.