Page 88 of A Malicious Menagerie
At one point along what feels like an endless stretch of highway that’s empty of anything but trees, Chase rolls down the window in the back. I squeal at the abrupt surge of cold air. “Chase, it’s freezing!”
“Sorry,” he murmurs. The word is nearly whipped away by the wind, but he doesn’t close the window. Instead, he raises his nose to the breeze. “I’m navigating.”
“By scent?” I ask curiously.
“I’ve only driven in a handful of times,” he says, and I imagine him running this territory as a wolf with no need for wheels. If anything, when the weather is bad, it’s probably the better choice.
Suddenly, his gaze sharpens, his expression one of a hound that’s scented a fox. “Make the next left,” he tells me.
The ‘next left’ is another five miles up the abandoned highway and dumps us onto an unkempt gravel path. I grit my teeth as the ancient Jeep rattles over the uneven back road, and I feel Nan’s weak grip on my forearm as she tries to keep her balance even with the seat belt across her chest. “Are you sure this is right?” I manage to ask through my clacking teeth.
“Definitely,” Chase replies, and I catch his excited grin and bright eyes in the mirror. After a couple miles of what could honestly be consideredoff-roading, Chase blurts, “Stop here!”
I do as he says, letting the beleaguered old car rest. “There, there, Fabio,” I murmur, patting the cracked dashboard fondly. Twisting in my seat to look back at Chase, I note with bemusement that he’s tugging off his sweater and unbuttoning his pants. “What are you doing?”
“They’ll be wary of a strange car driving up,” he explains, hopping out of the car to finish undressing. He tosses his clothes on the seat before leaning back in to continue, “I’ll pace the car.”
Nodding, I watch as he shuts the door before letting the shift come over him. “I’ll never get used to that,” Nan mumbles, her eyes wide as his limbs and fur and muscles all change before our eyes.
“Me neither,” I agree. “It’s gruesome, but also kind of… beautiful.”
Chase is certainly beautiful, anyway. And this is how I knew him first, so his glossy ebony fur, flashing golden gaze, and broad build are a comfort. I’ve watched him lie his head in my lap and doze, and I’ve watched him use his fangs to guard me. He’s gentle, deadly, sweet, protective, loyal, and powerful.
And he’s mine.
As I let the car roll forward again, Chase stays by my window, his long legs keeping easy pace with the struggling antique. We continue like this for another three miles through the dense coniferous wood, and I start to worry that we made a wrong turn. Then, the path in front of us suddenly opens up into a clearing. The sky overhead is an overcast silver but bright enough to illuminate the settlement of small log cabins spread out in front of us, all arranged in semicircular rows facing what looks like a town square ahead of us. There’s a light sprinkling of snow on the ground, though the gravel path has been painstakingly cleared.
Despite the cold, there are several people on the street who appear to be chatting easily until our strange entourage catches their attention. There are a couple of wolves as well, both sitting together at the foot of a set of steps leading up to a covered front porch. The larger wolf is steel gray with a notched ear, and the other is almost petite, if such a word can be ascribed to a werewolf. The smaller wolf has sable fur almost as dark as Chase’s, andwhen they turn their gaze our way, the eyes are the same golden hue. Those eyes widen, and the yelp the wolf emits is high and loud enough for me to hear even with the windows closed.
Then, in a flurry of flailing limbs, wagging tail, and flopping tongue, the small wolf launches at Chase, and I slam the car to a halt before throwing it into park. Flinging open the door, I almost get caught in my seat belt as I cry, “Chase!”
To my bemusement, the small wolf doesn’t appear to be attacking Chase. Instead, she—because I have no doubt somehow that this wolf is a female—appears to be… nuzzling him?
“What’s going on out here?” calls an amused feminine voice. I glance toward the porch where the gray wolf still sits, appearing frozen, his dark eyes also wide with shock. Beside him, a woman comes down the stairs, squinting at the writhing mass of dark fur beside the car. She has black hair wound into a thick braid, a few strands gone gray around her face, and from a distance, her eyes appear just as golden as the wolves’. Suddenly, I know exactly who this is, and she all but confirms it when she calls, “Chase!” Slapping blindly at the gray wolf beside her, she hisses, “Go get Laurel!”
The steel wolf runs off, apparently to do her bidding, while the human woman staggers forward on trembling legs. Her eyes fill with tears, and she presses her hands over her mouth as if she can hold in the coming torrent. “Chase,” she says again, his name like a prayer.
Chase has managed to wrestle himself upright, and he’s sitting rigid, staring at the woman. Meanwhile, his mini-me presses up against his side, her tail still wagging frantically as overjoyed yips escape her. Then, suddenly, the woman is running, and Chase dives forward to meet her, lowering his head so she can press damp kisses to his forehead and muzzle. “Where. Have. You. Been?!” she demands between kisses, but she’s laughing and crying and hugging him so tightly that I imagine I hear his grunt. The smaller wolf dances in circles around them, unable to contain her excitement. It would be funny if it weren’t so heartbreaking, especially when a young woman with white-blond hair and the steel-gray wolf from before join the mix until Chase is hidden under a pile of crying women and ecstatic wolves.
“His family?” Nan guesses, watching with a soft smile through the windshield.
“Yes,” I answer softly. “Finally.”
Then, suddenly, the smaller wolf becomes a girl, maybe sixteen, taking the jacket her mother offers her from her own shoulders before throwing her arms around Chase’s furry neck. In a flurry of cracking bones and snapping tendons, Chase follows after, lifting her from the ground and spinning her around in dizzying circles. “Chase!” the girl squeals, laughing, and despite his grin, Chase’s eyes are suspiciously shiny when he sets her down.
Not wanting to interrupt the moment, I quietly gather Chase’s clothes from the back seat and hold them to my chest. He might run hot, but I doubt he’ll mind some layers. After all, it’s about fifteen degrees.
He must catch my movement because his gaze flickers to me and sticks, his grin widening even more, if that’s possible. Murmuring something to his family, he jogs back to me, his eyes alight and body language more relaxed than I’ve ever seen it. “Thanks,” he says, tugging on the jeans I offer to him.
“You take afteryourmother, too,” I tease him.
He smirks. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” As he tugs on a flannel shirt, he asks, “Do you want to meet them?”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” I begin, but the decision is made for me when Chase’s mother peeks around her son’s shoulder, her eyes and cheeks damp but her smile welcoming.
“You’ve brought a friend,” his mother notes before peeking curiously into the car. Nan waves, and she waves back. “Or two, it seems.”
“It’s a long story,” Chase huffs, his smile bittersweet now. Without warning, Chase pulls me against him. I squeak before laughing and throwing an arm around his broad back. “Mom, this is Anna,” Chase says proudly, his chest practically puffing up. “My mate. That’s her grandmother, Darla Paulson, in the car. Anna, this is my mom, Diana.”
