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“The first time is painful and dangerous. Not every shifter survives. Natural or not, it’s forcing the body to do something it’s never done before.” He remembered exactly how excruciating it had been for his bones to reform that first time, the fur shoving out from beneath his skin as his wolf claimed dominance. “The trick is not to fight the shift. After a couple of times, it’s second nature, but something went wrong that night.”
“What happened?”
He barely heard her, lost in the past. “I was excited about my first shift. Everyone in the pack was there to support me.” It was the biggest day of a wolf’s life. “A storm blew in out of nowhere. Mid-shift something struck me. It was like a bolt of lightning electrifying every cell in my body. Felt like I was on fire. Hurt like hell. I thought I was dying, but I fought to live.” Sometimes, he wondered if he’d made the right decision, but surviving was bred in his bones.
“Devlin.”
He shook his head. “I was born with brown hair and eyes. When it was over, I’d shifted into a wolf with fur of pure white with eyes to match, and I bore the mark of the white wolf.” He peeled his shirt up and off and tossed it aside. The tips of his fingers traced the gray-inked tattoo over his heart.
“Your coloring changed and the tattoo simply appeared?” She closed the distance between them and placed her hand over the marking, her gentle touch a balm for his wounded soul.
“That’s how it happens.” His voice was rough, his heart thundering against her palm.
“You’ve lost me. The white wolf—why is it significant?”
He caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face up. “In every generation, there’s a lone wolf. He’s known by his unique coloring and the mark he bears over his heart. There is only one in the world at any time.”
…
An icy hand clenched her heart at his almost toneless rendition of the tale of his life. He seemed more remote than ever. “Unlike other wolves, the lone wolf is immortal. He’s charged with being the enforcer for all the packs, judge and executioner of wolves who break our laws.”
She swallowed heavily. “Immortal.” Being a werewolf had been mind-bending enough. Butimmortaltook it to an entirely new level of unbelievable.
“Eighty-five years ago, I was driven from my pack. I was fifteen.” He continued as if he’d never left off the story.
“What about your parents?” She better than anyone understood parents couldn’t always be relied on.
“They turned their backs on me to save their place in the pack. Otherwise, they’d have been outcasts, shunned.”
“They should’ve stood by you.” Anger at her past, at his, fired her blood. “It’s not right or fair.”
“No, it’s not. I never asked for it. But that’s not the end of the story.”
“Of course it’s not. Finish it.” He hadn’t looked away from her face the entire time, was watching her every reaction, his white eyes colder than she’d ever seen them.
“In the legend, the lone wolf is one of three colors—white, gray, or black with fur and eye colors that match. The mark of the sickle appears on the chest. It always happens at the time of the first shift and only after the previous lone wolf has died.”
“Died? That doesn’t sound immortal to me.”
“Beheading will kill me. Often, the lone wolf can’t bear the isolation—no pack or family or friends, no place in the world—coupled with the endless deaths over the centuries, and purposely loses in battle. Sometimes he is attacked and overwhelmed by wolves that fear him or betrayed by those he trusts.”
She’d endured endless loneliness in her life. What would it be like to be alone for centuries on end? He was facing that. She threw her arms around him. “I wish I could make it better.”
His arms slowly came around her, and he buried his face in her hair. “You already have.”
His rough voice twined around her heart, wrapping it in unbreakable bonds. Whatever caution remained melted away. “I’ll never turn my back on you. I won’t leave you.” She prayed she’d be able to keep the rash promise that sank into her bones like a sacred vow.
“God, you’re killing me.” Some emotion she couldn’t name flickered in his eyes before vanishing. “I later learned there were three of us who made our first shift that same night. All three had a second birth and became the white, gray, and black lone wolves. In our entire history, there has never been more than one at any given time. No one knows why it happened.”
“Does it have anything to do with magic?”
“It’s possible, even likely. That means our enemy is patient and sly, which leads to the question: why is this happening now? You seem to be the catalyst.” He tugged lightly on the lock of white in her hair. “Now you know the truth about what I am. In telling you, I’ve broken our laws. By rights, the other lone wolves could hunt and kill us both for that offense.”
Her heart lurched. “I’ll never tell a soul.”
A low growl vibrated in his chest. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
He might not be able to stop them. He was one man against many. She had questions about wolves, but they’d wait. Devlin was mistrustful. After hearing his story, she couldn’t blame him. A true loner, he didn’t need anything or anyone, but he needed her.
