Page 5 of Tamed Wolf

I lift my head to look at my childhood bedroom, all the stupid posters of boy bands and supermodels, magazine ads I thought were cool, my collection of stuffed animals that Ivan likes to make fun of; am I acting like a child?

Since meeting the guys, it’s like my body has been on a fast track to fill out. My chest has been outgrowing bras almost faster than I can buy them and my hips are curving so much that I’ve resorted to only pants with stretchy waistbands because nothing else fits right anymore.

But maybe it’s because I’ve been trying to act like a sixteen-year-old kid instead of the adult everyone wants me to be.

I wipe my eyes off with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and stumble to my closet, brushing a hand over the section of clothes I’ve barely touched that Ivan and Trevor bought me. They’re all lacy and form fitting and very…mature. Hardly what I’d wear to school, skirting on the edge of the dress code, but clearly this is what they want to see me in.

I need to call them. They hate it when I wait too long to tell them I’m upset because then I tend to blow everything up into a bigger deal and I get too emotional to properly process things.

I take a few deep breaths and hover over both their names, searching through my history to see who I called last time. I have to alternate so they don’t think I’m paying more attention to one of them over the other.

“Lark, what’s up? This isn’t a great time. Shift just started.”

Music blares in the background, making it a bit difficult to hear Ivan. “I’m sorry, you can just call me back later. It’s nothing we need to talk about right this second.” My voice cracks and I have to cover my mouth with the back of my hand to block out the sobs that want to break free.

I just want to be held and listened to, want someone to tell me it’s okay to feel hurt that my parents basically just dumped me.

“One second.”

The sounds start to get quieter until Ivan comes back on the phone, wherever he is completely quiet now. “I’m here. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry. I forgot you were working tonight. Really, we can just talk about it later. I could maybe come over tomorrow after school?”

“For fuck’s sake, Lark, just tell me. I walked all the way down here so I could hear you. What happened?”

“My parents just told me they’re selling the house; they’re gonna go travel or something. They don’t want me to go with them and I only have a week to pack up my stuff.”

“So why are you crying? Is the idea of moving in with us such a hardship?” I hear some soft voices in the back and the phone gets muffled while Ivan says something to somebody, and then he’s back on the phone, his voice a little strained. “You know we’re going to take care of you.Fuuck. I—sorry. Yes. Okay, um, fuck. One second.”

The phone gets muted again, and I sit there twiddling my thumbs, wondering what’s wrong with me that this feels like a bad thing. Most wolves are over the moon to be able to move in with their mates and begin a life. There’s just something holding me back.

When Ivan comes back, he’s slightly breathless. “Pack a bag and one of us will come pick you up in a little bit, okay? I know you aren’t going to want to stay there after your fight with your parents.”

“Are you like working out or something? Why are you so out of breath?”

“Erm, yeah. I just had to run up the stairs and grab something, sorry. Are you okay?”

“He hit me again. I probably deserved it because I was talking back, but—”

“He fucking did what? Lark, listen to me. He does not get to put his hands on our mate. Pack your shit, I’m on my way.”

I think about texting Cheyenne, but we’ve been fighting a lot lately. She doesn’t like my mates, but it’s not like I can do anything about that. She just doesn’t understand them. I don’t want to fight with anyone else tonight, so I grab my suitcase off of the top shelf of my closet and start grabbing everything. When that’s full, I run downstairs to the now empty kitchen and grab the box of trash bags, then begin emptying my dresser into those. Finally, I make sure I have all of my school stuff, makeup, and hair products I can think of and dump it into a bag and start hauling everything downstairs. I’ve just gotten the second bag to the front door when headlights paint the dark living room wall, the crunching of gravel announcing Ivan.

I’m out that door as fast as can be, running barefoot down the steps and into his arms, somewhere I know will make me feel better.

He smells a little different than usual, but his arms are just as strong as they always are as he lifts me up and carries me back inside. “Baby, you’re not wearing any shoes. You’re going to hurt your feet.”

He brings me straight up to my bedroom and sits on my bed, keeping me on his lap as he sits. “Let me see your cheek.”

He’s tender as he turns my head, his anger a tangible thing. “He had no right to do that. What the hell was he thinking?”

Why do I want to defend my father at all? I shake that away and focus on the facts. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to get out of here.”

“You know, there’s no one here. I know a good way to get all these emotions running high in you to fizzle down and wear you out.”

He wags an eyebrow at me, making me giggle. He’s always good at bringing me out of a bad mood. “I thought my bedroom weirded you out?”

“A man can change his mind. Besides, don’t you want to stick it to your parents by making sure they know exactly what we got up to in here before you move out?”

---