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“No one is snarling or pissing to mark their territory,” Meredith said. “I think it’s safe, but I’m not the fancy wildlife biologist, so what do I know?”
“Mom, you know as much as I do about wolves. You’ve lived here at the sanctuary long enough to have earned an honorary degree.”
Meredith gave Brandy’s shoulder a little squeeze. “Thanks, honey. Nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you, Dylan, and all these beautiful wolves.”
Brandy rested her hand atop Meredith’s then unlatched the cage’s door. “Play nice, Alator. A tranq gun is within range if necessary.”
Slowly, Reardon stepped out of the cage. He paused to let Lug approach, but the brown wolf remained in the submissive position as if waiting for a command from Reardon.
Hmm.
Reardon let out a little chuffing bark in invitation and Lug rose to his feet. The two wolves sniffed each other, tails wagging. When Lug trotted off, Reardon wrestled with following, but the wolf came right back with a bag in its jaws.
“You want to share your snacks with Alator, Lug?” Brandy asked. “What a good boy.” She gave the other wolf a vigorous rubbing, and Reardon had to clench his jaw to keep his razor-sharp teeth from doing something foolish.
Brandy opened the bag and tossed two biscuits at each wolf. Lug devoured his in an instant, while Reardon crunched on each one as politely as an oversized black wolf could.
“Well, I’d say he passed the test,” Meredith said.
“Me too.” Brandy grabbed the blankets Meredith had taken out of the cage earlier and made a nest of them in a corner of the room. She collapsed the sides of the cage and hauled it out of sight much to Reardon’s delight. “He does, however, need to rest that leg before tackling the sanctuary’s woods.”
Rest. The word was foreign to him. He hadn’t rested in ages. No one had ever insisted that he do so either.
“C’mon.” Brandy snapped her fingers then pointed to the nest of blankets. “You want that leg to get better so you can run around, don’t you?”
He wanted it to get better so he could follow her wherever she went.
Chapter Six
Two weeks passed in a blur of normal, everyday activity at Silver Moon Wolf Sanctuary. Brandy had kept busy tending to the wolves, entertaining school groups, helping Parker with his college students, and writing four articles for the various science journals and blogs she contributed to.
But mostly she watched Alator.
The big, black wolf had healed nicely, albeit faster than she’d expected. None of the other wolves she’d worked with had ever recovered from a broken limb in under two weeks, but Alator had. An X-ray Parker took of his leg showed nothing but strong bone. Odd, but Brandy let it go in favor of the notion that the wolf was just a fast healer. Some wolves were like that.
Right?
Regardless, in less than two weeks, Alator was checking out every corner of the sanctuary as if he was committing each sector to memory. He sniffed. He pawed at the ground. He pissed along the entire perimeter. He claimed the area as his and the other wolves didn’t seem to mind at all. She’d observed the rest of the pack using a certain kind of reverence when interacting with Alator that she couldn’t quite explain. She’d chalked it up to the fact that the black wolf exuded testosterone and the others had merely accepted him as Alpha.
Which was beyond odd.
Alator had been there the least amount of time. The other wolves had been together for years. Even Lug, who’d been quasi-leader of the pack, had deferred to Alator without a fight. It didn’t add up, but so far everything had been peaceful at the sanctuary and Brandy wasn’t going to complain about that.
She also wasn’t going to complain about letting Alator into her log cabin at night. Since Hank Swift’s threatening visit, she’d been double checking locks, doing perimeter sweeps for traps, leaving outside lights on. She’d called for the security system and that was supposed to be installed this week. That had allowed her a chance to climb back from the edge she’d been on since that bastard had pinned her to the wall in the clinic.
The nerve.Every once in a while that scenario popped into her head. Okay, okay. Maybe it was more than once in a while. Maybe it was every time she freaking closed her eyes. She could smell the beer on Hank’s breath again. Feel his forearm against her throat. See the veins bulging in his poorly shaven neck. She’d wake up in a sweat, heart racing, hands clutching the sheets.
And then Alator was there. By the side of the bed. His head resting on the mattress. His ripped left ear twitching. His green-gold eyes visible in the darkness of her bedroom where he insisted on sleeping on the floor. Every night she offered him a comfy bed out in the living room. Every night he turned it down and followed her to her bedroom where he slid down onto the hardwood floor at the foot of her bed. He’d curl up into a tight ball, but she could tell he’d spring into action if necessary.
Alator offered some comfort with his presence, but Brandy still ended up having nightmares. She got angry about them too. Why the hell should Hank Swift be keeping her up at night? When she drove past his property on the way to her own, goosebumps broke out on her skin. If Hank happened to be outside, he stopped whatever he was doing to narrow his eyes at her as she passed by. Just a look from him chilled her.
Grr.It pissed her off that a stupid neighbor could screw up her normally balanced chakras.
As if sensing her unrest now, Alator walked out of the deeper woods toward her, his gait smooth and confident. Brandy yanked several more weeds from the garden she’d been tending under the warm June sun. Every summer she filled the earth with herbs on a patch of land about twenty feet from the log cabin where she and Dylan lived. She loved cooking with the fruits of her labor. Basil, oregano, thyme, rosemary… she could just sit there and breathe it all in.
But right now a very excited boy nearly knocked her over.
“Umm… is someone pumped that today was the last day of school?” She pulled Dylan into her lap and covered his face with kisses, which he pretended to wipe off. She knew the day would come when he probably wouldn’t be pretending but instead be completely appalled if she kissed him. For now she’d shower him with whatever affection he would tolerate.
