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He slowly slid off the surgical table. He wore his gladiator briefs, which were bloodstained. He saw a tan leather satchel by the door and recognized the emerald green logo of Warren’s Caldion pack. He sensed in a manner that felt fully fae that it contained clothes for him, toiletries, and hopefully a Glock he could use until he took possession of his own.
What he’d really like, however, was a skewer and he knew exactly where he’d put it. Damn Sydon to hell.
Picking up the satchel, he moved into the family room. He saw the familiar three large bird cages near the windows, full of chattering birds. Because of the dreamglides he’d shared with Mary, he knew her home inside and out, though this was the first time he’d been here in real-time.
She made a habit of rescuing both cats and birds. No dogs, though. Just one beat-up wolf.
As he headed toward the kitchen opposite, several cats came running up to him. He was surprised given that he was a wolf. But as each meowed and rubbed around his legs, he realized he must have carried enough of Mary’s scent to set them at ease.
Holding the leather bag away from the cats, he dipped down and petted a couple of them. When one of the cats raced in the direction of the kitchen, then paced in front of a row of five small ceramic purple bowls, he got the hint.
“You kids hungry?”
One of them had the intelligence to meow loudly
in response.
“Okay, I get it. Mary was so busy taking care of me, she didn’t feed you earlier this morning.” All the cats began milling around their obvious feeding area.
He crossed the room and set his satchel near the hallway that led to the master bedroom and a second bedroom. He’d take care of the cats first and maybe look for something to eat. He was feeling famished, but almost dying would do that to a wolf.
He went into the kitchen and opened three cans of cat food. He had no idea about the portions, so he began slopping tablespoons into each bowl.
Several of the cats purred as they chowed down.
Imagine, a wolf feeding house cats.
After rinsing the tins and putting them in the recycle bin, he went to the fridge and found a half-gallon of milk. He hunted for a glass, then poured it almost to the brim. He drank it down, then another.
When he’d poured a third, he moved back to the family room area. He saw the photos still lying on the floor, of Mary with her family. For a moment, he was reminded of his own life with Sharon before coming to Five Bridges.
Sharon had been happy back then. So had he. He’d built a resort in Sedona that they’d both loved, with a spectacular view of the Mogollon Rim. They’d had money and had even planned on starting a family soon. But one night, fifteen years ago, the wolf alter serum had been injected into their salad dressing, an act of treachery that had put his former business partner in prison for life.
Once he and Sharon had transformed into alter wolves, they’d been required by law to liquidate their assets and sell off the resort. The U.S. government, by long-experience, knew it was best if alter beings severed business ties to the human community. Fergus understood the wisdom of it. Alter creatures needed to embrace their kind and their world.
He’d saved their money for the future, however, for the day he’d become alpha. From the moment he and Sharon had been assigned to the Gordion Pack, he knew eventually he’d rise to the top.
Sharon had wanted him to build them a large home right away, but all his human ambitions had transferred to his alpha drive. He’d told her they would have to wait. He had a goal and one day soon he’d be the alpha of the Gordion Pack then they’d build a beautiful house attached to a massive complex.
Becoming alpha, however, had taken a decade and dozens of dominance fights, some of which he lost early on. He’d taken to this life, but Sharon had never been happy, not as an alter wolf or living in Five Bridges. She’d basically endured a dozen years of disappointment before her death.
But theirs wasn’t an unusual story. Few saw contentment in their world. The alter experience was like surviving a plane crash. Though you might still be alive, you had severe injuries and your life would never be the same again. New skills had to be learned and a new way of living adopted.
In addition, Savage had lived up to its name. Violence ruled the wolf territory more than it did any of the others. Harley, his number one beta wolf, had once told him that everyone who ended up in Five Bridges had a form of PTSD. He was probably right.
Mary’s parents had both died during failed alter transformations. Later, her sister, Alicia, an alter wolf, had been killed when a dominance battle got out of hand. She’d been an innocent bystander when several wolves in the spectator stands went berserk.
He honestly didn’t know how Mary had succeeded in pulling her life together after Alicia’s death, except that she loved her work. From the time she’d taken up residence in Revel, she’d focused most of her energies on her thriving small animal practice. All this he knew from their shared time in the dream-world.
He glanced around the combined family room and kitchen. He’d seen the space often in the dreamglide. But now the colors were real, the white of her couch, the purple of her pillows, the pale gold of her drapes.
He’d made love to her more than once on her couch, yet not exactly there, just what the dreamglide could manufacture.
His body heated up, and his gladiator briefs tightened.
Mary.
Jesus, what was he going to do with her now that they’d made contact in real-time? Would she finally remember what they’d been to each other? The sex and the dozens of conversations?
