Page 32 of Cowboy Wolf Christmas

“When I was younger there wasn’t a lot of protection for the subpacks. There’s been more since Maverick became packmaster but there still isn’t . . . ” His voice trailed off. “I didn’t know what I could do.”

She didn’t say anything then, instead she stayed silent, listened as she yielded him the space to talk, to heal. The darkness seemed to encroach around them, the shadows growing longer as they stood there. It took a long time, before finally Silas said, “The last Christmas I spent in Missoula, the subpack was set upon by vampires. The first of many attacks to come. My family didn’t make it.”

When he’d said he was from Missoula, she’d made the connection. There wasn’t many from that subpack left, but yet, hearing him confirm it out loud was so much worse. Her heart ached for him. “Silas, I’m so sorry. I—“

“I’m not finished, damn it.” He shook his head, held a finger up like if she stopped him, he’d lose his courage and wouldn’t be able to say it. “I don’t need your pity or theirs.” He nodded toward the guest hall, where the other members of her pack would gather to celebrate with all of them once they returned. “I joined the Wild Eight because it wasn’t long after that the Seven Range Pact voted to extend their patrol of the vampires.”

Cheyenne tried not to lift a brow. “Wouldn’t you have wanted that?

“No. God, you think so much like one of them,” he mumbled.

She didn’t like the way he said that, like the two of them were different.

They weren’t. Not in that way.

He swore under his breath. “The conflict between those bloodsuckers and the pack has gone on ever since. Still is. Don’t you see? Where does it start? Where does it end?”

She didn’t think he actually wanted her to answer that, but he answered it quickly enough on his own.

“With more wolves buried six feet under, that’s where.”

She nodded thoughtfully, taking all he said into consideration. “That’s why you joined the Wild Eight? Because they were opposed to our pack patrolling the vampires, keeping them in check on behalf of the human hunters?”

He nodded.

He gestured around them, eyes dark and wild. “Here we are fifteen years later. The Wild Eight gone. Hell, Wes is even the second-in-command in your pack and where the hell has that gotten us?” He shook his head. “Just with more lives lost, more blood shed.”

“A lot of it was shed at the hands of the Wild Eight,” she whispered.

It was a truth neither of them could dispute.

“I know.” His eyes filled with regret. “That’s why I can’t come back to the pack. When the vampires wiped out all of Missoula how do you think they did that?”

Cheyenne froze. “What are you saying?”

“The Wild Eight had already dissolved by then, but where do you think they got the knowledge?”

She understood him clearly then, but she didn’t want to, didn’t want to consider that the man she loved had done that. Maybe worse.

“Youtoldthem?” She couldn’t keep the fear from her voice, the worry and hurt.

He winced as if she’d struck him. “No. Not directly. But my knowledge of how Missoula ran, knowledge ofyourpack, I shared it with Donnie after Wes left. It was never supposed to go beyond that room, but it did. He passed it to the vamps. How am I supposed to call myself one or your pack again when my choices, my regrets left so many of your packmates for dead. How can I ask anyone to forgive like that?”

Because he wouldn’t forgive the vampires for taking the same thing from him. She could see it. He didn’t have to say it for her to understand.

“You just do,” she whispered, blunt and honest. “You just ask. It’s that simple.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “The pack wouldn’t have let you join again if they weren’t ready to accept you back, to forgive your mistakes, even the big ones. You just have so show them you deserve it.”

“But do I?” he asked. “Do I deserve it?” He cupped the sides of her hair in return, drawing her to him as he laid his forehead against hers. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” He growled.

She laid a kiss on his cheek, soft, gentle. “You keep saying that. But repeating it doesn’t make it any truer. I can’t force you to allow yourself to be happy, Silas. To forgiveyourself. That’s whose forgiveness you need. Not mine or the pack’s. You need to see the difference in yourself, the changes you’ve made. That’s only way you’re ever really going to heal. You need to findyourselfworthy, or you’re right, you’ll never be a member of this pack.” She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him close. “But not because I or anyone else don’t want you to be.”

She kissed him then, a long and deep mingling of tongues until she pulled back and whispered. “Can you try to do that?”

Silas opened his mouth, like he was prepared to answer her. But then she felt his muscles draw tight beneath her hands, coil like a snake prepared to strike. Something rustled in the forest, not far to her right. Cheyenne’s heart raced. She didn’t think.

“Did you hear that?” she breathed.

Silas nodded once, silently, drawing his blade from where he kept it tucked in his boot. “Cheyenne,” he whispered, so low she could hardly hear him.

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