Page 52 of Wolves & Watercolors
Cedar holds open the door and ushers us into a quiet living room. Hazel settles on the squishy sectional, and I sit on the other side, not quite ready to let go of my annoyance. Slate and Cedar sit between us.
Biting my lip, I refuse to talk until Hazel breaks the silence.
She lets out a long sigh. “I’m relieved you know the truth, honestly. It’s hard keeping anything from you.”
It’s the best thing she could have said. I think the fact my sister kept such a huge truth from me bothers me more than finding out I might have some sort of magic myself.
Timber lets out a little whimper, so Slate unclips the carrier so he can cradle their baby and gently rock her. Hazel watches for a moment before returning her attention to me.
“We have rules about not telling people. It was dangerous when I discovered the truth. But things have changed, so it should be okay that you know. Even so, we should keep it quiet for now. And obviously you can’t say anything to anyone. Mom doesn’t know.”
“Of course!” I rush to assure her.
“How did you find out?” Slate asks.
Cedar stiffens beside me. I wet my lips, glancing his way, wondering if he would prefer to answer. He meets Slate’s gaze reluctantly. “She had some issues with the house plants in Heath’s house and I was helping her.”
“I got really scared and I was kinda screaming at him and freaking out.” I jump in.
“I lost control and shifted.” He rests his forearms on his knees, fingers laced together as he hangs his head, the image of a repentant man.
A cold silence stretches and I get the feeling this is a punishable offense.
“Maybe my magic did something to him,” I suggest. “It’s my fault.”
Hazel’s hand goes to Slate’s knee, as a silent exchange happens between them. He nods. “Perhaps we should have told you sooner. Maybe that difficult situation could have been avoided.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gather my courage to ask the question simmering in the back of my head. “So if Dad was a shifter and you are, does that mean I am too?”
Lines form around Hazel’s mouth as she studies me. “No, we don’t think so. It’s really unlikely.”
“Wait, how can we know for sure?” Even the possibility sends ice through my veins. It’s terrifying and yet alluring.
“You’d start showing signs. Fast healing, hair and nails growing quickly, improved senses.”
Frowning, I lift my hand to study the small cut below my thumb. The scab has barely formed. No super healing here.
“This is a good thing,” Hazel says warmly. “It means you aren’t stuck here. If you were a shifter, you’d need to stay with us or join another pack.”
“Pack?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Oh, that’s what this is. Why we all live together.” She sweeps her hands out.
“Like a wolf pack?”
“Kinda. It’s a little different, but that’s the idea. We’re built to live in community. Shifters don’t do well in isolation.”
“How does it work here? Is it basically a really close-knit neighborhood that gets furry together every so often?”
Hazel rolls her eyes. “No, there’s more to it than that. Everyone has different roles and jobs, and we all work together. Some people are protectors, like Lazuli and Cassia who you met.” The image of them watching me as I arrived flashes through my head. “And other people handle things our community needs, like how Cedar cares for our garden. His mom is a baker. Marigold is a teacher.”
“What’s your job?”
Hazel clears her throat, her eyes flicking to Slate. “We’re the Alphas.”
“Excuse me?”
Slate smiles, admiring my sister as she purses her lips, thinking before answering. “We’re the leaders.”
