《The Love of a Werewolf》 The Market Jackson didn¡¯t want to be in the marketplace. It was revolting. Too many people walked the narrow paths, brushed against him, trying to find their next purchase. The scent alone was strong enough to make him want to gag. Filth and unwashed bodies and overflowing trash cans¡­ Jackson hated it. The dirt under his feet was hard packed. The sun beat down on him relentlessly. Not a single awning to relax under. Any shade trees that might have grown in the area before were chopped down to make space for more cages. No. The fat pockets of the market owners meant nothing in terms of how their product was displayed. And the displays could use plenty of work. Iron bars created cages. The werewolves inside were cuffed and collared. Jackson paused in front of a particularly crowded cage. It was packed full of women werewolves. Revulsion choked him as he read the sign - breeding stock. He squeezed through the crowd as quick as he could to put as much distance between him and that cage as possible. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck. He could feel the skin of his nose burning. He kept walking until the crowd began to thin. The next cage he paused in front of wasn¡¯t near as packed. There was no sign on the cage that he could see. Only four werewolves were inside, all men as best Jackson could guess. They wore thin pants and long sleeved shirts, unlike any of the rest who had as much skin as was ¡®decent¡¯ on display. Not many people stopped at this cage. They glanced in and kept going without a moment of hesitation. ¡°Hey,¡± Jackson flagged down one of the workers passing by. ¡°What¡¯s in here?¡± He gestured at the nearly empty cage behind him. The worker laughed and clapped a hand on Jackson¡¯s shoulder. Jackson glared at him, but the worker didn¡¯t seem phased in the slightest. ¡°Those will be too expensive for you, boy. Best just continue on.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t ask how much they cost. I asked what they are.¡± The worker rolled his eyes. ¡°You can¡¯t afford them,¡± he repeated slowly, as though Jackson hadn¡¯t heard him the first time. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what they are if you can¡¯t afford them.¡± Jackson let out a laugh, loud and cruel. ¡°Oh geez, thank you, sir. I suppose when my dad, Steven Carmillan, asks where my new wolf is, I¡¯ll tell him the worker at the market could only say that we can¡¯t afford them. Boy, I sure bet he¡¯ll be happy to hear that. Don¡¯t you¡­¡± Jackson squinted at the name tag, ¡°Paul Smith?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Paul Smith¡¯s face slowly drained of color. ¡°Of course, sir. I¡¯m sorry, sir. These are fighter wolves. These particular four are fairly well known and there has been plenty of talk about them. You¡¯ll notice their arms are not only shackled behind their backs, but their hands have been enclosed as well. The blindfolds are customary for our fighter wolves that come through this market. We keep them covered to hide their scars. We don¡¯t want people to be disgusted by the sight of those scars and leave without purchasing their own wolf, after all.¡± He let out an uncomfortable chuckle. ¡°Are you looking to get started in the fights?¡± ¡°Maybe I am.¡± He wasn¡¯t. He was just annoyed at the man. ¡°Let me see their profiles.¡± He felt disgusted as Paul Smith pulled out his tablet and started scrolling. Forcing the wolves to fight for money was a whole new level of low. Paul handed the tablet over with four profiles pulled up. Jackson took his time reading through them, pretending to be mulling over the best option. The first three were in their early twenties. Two undefeated, one, the oldest one, lost a single fight and was sold because of it. It was the fourth one that had him pause. ¡°Is this accurate?¡± ¡°Of course, sir. We take care to ensure every bit of information is 100% correct.¡± Werewolf number four on the list, ID number - C36M657. Coastal region, in the mountains. Undefeated. That wasn¡¯t what had made him pause though. He was 32 years old, started fighting when he was 8. Undefeated after 24 years of fights. Only one previous owner. Specialties were listed as fighting, of course, and then¡­ personal. Personal could mean anything. Personal attendant was technically what Jackson was supposed to be looking for, but personal was close enough. He smiled at Paul Smith. ¡°What subspecialty is personal supposed to be under?¡± Paul shifted his weight. ¡°I¡¯m afraid the previous owners would only say personal.¡± Literally anything. Jackson shrugged. ¡°All right, I want him. Wolf C36M657.¡± He heard chains rattle behind him at his words, but kept his back to them. ¡°I want to be out of here in 10 minutes.¡± He smiled at Paul. ¡°I¡¯m sure that won¡¯t be a problem, right?¡± Paul smiled back nervously. ¡°Of course, sir. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Jackson watched him walk off then turned back to the cage. Wolf C36M657 was tensed against the far side of the cage. He stood, head angled down, arms so tight behind his back that his shoulders couldn¡¯t relax if he wanted to. The blindfold was snug over his eyes. His lips were tugged down into a small frown. His hair was pitch black and a matted mess of curls. Jackson felt disgusted just looking at him, but he did what he had to do. He had a werewolf. Great. The Market pt. 2 Paul Smith¡¯s face was beaded with sweat when he returned. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. I¡¯m afraid this particular set will be going up for auction this afternoon.¡± ¡°What¡¯s his value?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not at liberty to say.¡± Jackson smiled at him, ¡°Of course you¡¯re not. Go back. Tell them I¡¯ll double what he¡¯s expected to bring in. Jackson Carmillan, just in case you didn¡¯t know the name.¡± He didn¡¯t hold out his hand for the introduction. ¡°Yes, sir. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Jackson turned back to the cage. ¡°C363M657.¡± The wolf tensed. ¡°That¡¯s a fucking mouthful. If you don¡¯t have a name, think one up, otherwise I¡¯m calling you Fido.¡± Nothing. Not a twitch of the lips to show humor or anger. No tensing. No relaxing. Jackson sighed and turned his back on the cage. He hated this goddamned place. Paul returned with shaking hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. This batch is required to go to auction. This block will be up at 3, if you¡¯d like to wait I can show you to our vip area.¡± Ha. No. ¡°No, thank you.¡± There was a rattle from the cage behind him. ¡°I¡¯ll wait right here and follow him to the auction block. I would prefer a chair brought to me here.¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± Paul left and returned with a wooden folding chair. ¡°Thank you.¡± Jackson settled in and watched Paul walk away. The chair was uncomfortable, the sun was only growing hotter, and Jackson was bored. ¡°These guys think I don¡¯t know what happens when people are required to go to auction,¡± he muttered to the wolves behind him. ¡°I¡¯d go wait in the ¡®vip area¡¯ only for money to change hands in private and you to disappear.¡± Jackson laughed and tapped his knuckles against the cage. ¡°Too bad I know how these guys work. C36M657.¡± The wolf tensed again. ¡°It¡¯s fine. You can speak.¡± Nothing. ¡°Yeah, I guess they¡¯re strict about that shit here.¡± Nothing. Jackson stopped pushing for a reaction. He leaned back in his chair and let the sun bake his skin. The amount of people walking by was slowly increasing and he received several dirty looks for his chair being in the way. He just stared at them until they continued on. It went fine, until half an hour before the auction when a shadow fell across him. Jackson sighed in annoyance and lifted his head from where he¡¯d let it rest back against one of the iron bars. ¡°Can I help you?¡± He asked the man standing before him.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The man straightened the sleeve of his suit. His hair was swept back and styled with something that made his hair look greasy. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. ¡°Jackson Carmillan?¡± ¡°That¡¯s me.¡± The man smiled, showing off a set of perfect, too-white teeth. ¡°Walk with me and let¡¯s talk. I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re interested in C36M657?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be purchasing him in about,¡± he glanced at his watch, ¡°24 minutes. And we can talk here just fine.¡± The man hummed. ¡°You won¡¯t be able to purchase him. His starting bid is going to be much higher than any budget your daddy gave you for a new plaything.¡± Jackson let out a low whistle. ¡°Oh boy, you sure have me pegged.¡± A scowl crossed the man¡¯s lips for a fraction of a second, then his smile was back. ¡°I can show you some other great options. Some who might be a better fit for what you¡¯re looking for.¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for wolf C36M657. Can you show me him?¡± The man¡¯s smile tightened. ¡°What are you looking for in a wolf?¡± Jackson mentally applauded the man¡¯s skill in keeping his voice smooth. ¡°I definitely want a wolf skilled in fighting that has a second specialty as¡¯ personal.¡¯¡± When the man¡¯s smile started to relax, Jackson continued, ¡°Oh! And his ID number has to be C36M657. If I¡¯m not mistaken, I¡¯ve already found him.¡± The man¡¯s smile was cruel as he let out a short laugh. ¡°He¡¯ll kill you in seconds and belong to me anyway. So, sure. Go ahead and spend all of daddy¡¯s money to out bid me and enjoy your purchase for the solid five minutes you own it.¡± Jackson squinted at him and very deliberately cocked his head to the side. ¡°Do you not know how the collars work? Are you sure you should be purchasing a wolf if you don¡¯t even know how to control one?¡± ¡°You really think a simple shock will control one of those four?¡± Jackson blinked at the man. He was completely thrown off by how this conversation was going. ¡°Do¡­ Uh, I hate to use this phrase, but do you not know who I am? I mean you said my name when you approached so I assumed you knew who you were talking to. Jackson Carmillan. Of Carmillan Collars. I think I have a better understanding of how the collars work than you do.¡± The man sneered, ¡°Of course I know who you are. Steve¡¯s bratty son.¡± ¡°Great, then you¡¯ll know that when I say I¡¯ve decided on which wolf I¡¯m buying, that means that I will be going home with my choice. You can either back off and go home or you can bid me up as much as you want, but it won¡¯t change the outcome. I am leaving with him.¡± He thrust a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the wolf. ¡°And you are not.¡± The man stared at him with an ugly twist to his lips for several long moments then walked away without a word. Jackson waited until he was out of hearing range then snorted. ¡°What an ass,¡± he said to the four behind him. There was no response. He realized then that one of the other three would probably go home with that man instead and fought the urge to apologize to them. If his dad heard about him apologizing to a wolf in public, then he¡¯d never hear the end of it. He checked his watch when he noticed several workers approaching the cage. The auction was about to begin. Going Once Jackson signed in and grabbed a number. The four wolves were standing to the side of the stage. There was a man on either side of them, one holding a leash attached the collar, the other holding a small remote. Jackson found a seat near the front right as the first wolf was tugged forward by the leash. He held back a scowl when the wolf stumbled into the steps and nearly fell. The wolf had greasy hair that might have been blonde once, before the filth coated the strands. It wasn¡¯t near as matted as C36M657¡¯s though. If that was an attempt by the previous owner to make him look a little more presentable, sellable, then it missed the mark by a mile. ¡°First up we have Werewolf number N17M115. A rare wolf from the Northern Mountains. Born in the wild, this fighter wolf has his instincts intact. Captured when he was 5, he was trained from a young age and has been fighting ever since hitting puberty. He has only ever lost one fight¡­¡± Jackson tuned him out. He didn¡¯t want to hear it or else he¡¯d be purchasing more than one wolf today. The wolf, N17M115 stood hunched over. His shoulders were pulled back from the tight cuffs, but his spine curved down, his head hung still and low. Jackson wondered if his only loss was from giving up. If the wolf was just sick of this life and ready for it to end. His hand clenched around the cheap plastic number as he fought the urge to take this one home as well. N17M115, he repeated to himself. The numbers were easy enough to remember. The bidding started high and flew higher. Wild born fighter¡¯s were rare and worth the money for both collectors and fighters alike. The auctioneer eventually yelled out, ¡°Sold!¡± and the wolf was led off the opposite side of the stage. Jackson¡¯s stomach clenched when he saw the sunglassed man from earlier was the one who purchased him, and, for a moment, the revulsion threatened to overwhelm him. He didn¡¯t have time to focus on it though, C36M657 was being led onto the stage. ¡°Wolf number C36M657. Born wild, captured when he was 8 years old.¡± A murmur rose through the crowd. ¡°Undefeated after fighting for 24 years! This remarkable specimen is truly one of a kind. He has a second speciality as personal, so even if you¡¯re not looking to join the fights, this could still be the wolf for you. Let¡¯s start the bidding at one million.¡± Not unexpected, but a higher starting bid than usual for sure. Jackson raised his number. Four times, he raised his number. Sunglasses, with his new wolf kneeling on the floor beside him, stared him down every time. Jackson rolled his eyes at him and raised the paddle again. And again. And again. 8 million. 9 million. 10. With a sigh, Jackson stood up, ¡°20 mil.¡± The crowd was silent. A breeze ruffled a loose paper. The auctioneer stared at him. ¡°20 million dollars. Going once.¡± Silence. ¡°Going twice.¡± A long beat of silence. The auctioneer glanced over towards Sunglasses. ¡°Sold, please come to the stage to collect your wolf.¡± Jackson wiggled his fingers in a cheery wave at Sunglasses and made his way to the stage. He was handed the remote and the leash. ¡°The leash has to stay attached until you¡¯ve left the market, right now the controller is set to a distance of 8 feet. Keep it there until you¡¯ve left. Don¡¯t forget to check with the cashier that your payment method is up to date before you leave.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Jackson nodded and started to turn away. ¡°Oh, and I¡¯d keep that blindfold on if I were you.¡± The man lowered his voice. ¡°It can be overwhelming to remove it in a crowd like this.¡± Yeah. It¡¯s overwhelming to give the wolf his sight back after denying for an unknown amount of time. Jackson gave a tight smile. ¡°Sure thing. Thanks.¡± He tightened his hold on the leash and led the way, slowly, around the crowd. Heads turned to watch them walk away. Jackson didn¡¯t say anything to the wolf as he stumbled over the uneven path. He stopped at the cashier and she waved him on without a word. His account would always be in good standing here. As he left the crowd, he heard the auctioneer clear his throat and start the next sale. ¡°Hey!¡± Jackson paused at Sunglasses voice behind him. He turned to see Sunglasses and N17M115 walking up behind him. ¡°Hey, just a fair warning for you.¡± Sunglasses leaned in closer. Jackson stood still, if he stepped back now it would be as big a defeat as if he¡¯d let the man buy C36M657. ¡°Get it tested before you fuck it. The wolf¡¯s previous owner was never too careful with it.¡± The words were whispered in Jackson¡¯s ear. Jackson¡¯s vision blurred as rage filled his chest. He very carefully did not react. He kept his breathing even and his jaw unclenched as his heart pounded in his chest. The man stepped back with a smug smirk sitting ugly on his face. Forcing a smile onto his stiff face, Jackson nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Jackson glanced at the defeated wolf behind Sunglasses, but there was nothing he could do for him. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said to his wolf and turned away. Sunglasses didn¡¯t call out again. They made it to the car with no more interruptions. Jackson opened the passenger door and reached up to take off the wolf¡¯s blindfold. His hand brushed against the side of the wolf¡¯s face and the wolf reared back with a snarl. His lips curled up. His teeth grew into fangs. A low, warning growl emanated from his chest. Jackson¡¯s heart lodged itself firmly in his throat, but he didn¡¯t jump back. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, calm down, will you? Unless you want to keep the blindfold on, then by all means, try and bite me again.¡± At his words, the wolf straightened. The fangs receded back into normal, human looking teeth. His face was blank again. ¡°I¡¯m going to take off the blindfold now. Try not to attack this time. And you can talk now, so anytime you feel like telling me your name, I¡¯d appreciate it.¡± Jackson reached up for the blindfold again. His fingers brushed against the wolf¡¯s face and Jackson felt the wolf tense. After a second of nothing happening, Jackson pushed the blindfold away. The wolf kept his eyes closed. The blindfold was stuck in the tangled mats of hair. Jackson let it stay there, they could work it out later, when they were home. ¡°Turn around so I can free your arms.¡± The wolf turned on command. Jackson started at the wrist and got every buckle, hook, and lock undone. The wolf slowly let his arms fall to his sides. Jackson bit his tongue to keep from commenting on the deep lines and bruises where the cuffs had dug in around the visible skin of his wrist. He could only imagine what the rest of his arms looked like under the shirt. ¡°Wren.¡± The wolf¡¯s voice was rough and hoarse, as though he hadn¡¯t used it in much too long. ¡°What?¡± ¡°My name.¡± It was painful to hear him talk. The wolf turned back around to face him. His body was held stiff, his shoulders were still back in the position the cuffs had forced them into. ¡°Wren.¡± Wren¡¯s eyes slowly cracked open and he winced. Jackson caught a flash of gold before his eyes were shut again. ¡°All right, Wren. Let¡¯s go home.¡± Bath Time Jackson let the car idle for a moment as he dug through the middle console. Buried in the bottom and scratched to hell, he found his old pair of sunglasses. ¡°Here. Put these on.¡± Wren squinted at what he held out, then carefully, he reached out and took them. His face relaxed as he slid the sunglasses on. ¡°How long were you blindfolded?¡± Silence. All right. That¡¯s fine. They¡¯d brought in new wolves before who took a while to settle in. ¡°Ok. Let¡¯s just get you home so you can have a bath.¡± Wren tensed up at his words. ¡°You have to look presentable before you meet my dad.¡± They drove home in silence. Wren was a tense statue beside him, not once did he turn his head to watch out the window. He didn¡¯t fidget. He didn¡¯t ask a single question about where they were going. Jackson felt a prickle of insecurity run down his spine at the utter stillness of his companion. He might have been a little too impulsive in this purchase. He glanced over at the wolf as he waited for the garage door to open. ¡°We have a lot of wolves working for us. Just¡­ Stay close to me. I¡¯ll get you an official tour later.¡± He pulled the car into the garage and turned it off. They sat in the dark for a beat. ¡°We¡¯ll only be here a week, so don¡¯t worry too much about remembering where things are.¡± Nothing. No reaction whatsoever. ¡°Ok. Follow me.¡± Jackson got out of the car, but Wren stayed put. Jackson waited outside the passenger door to give him a moment, but when two long minutes passed and Wren still didn¡¯t move, Jackson opened the door himself. Wren stepped out of the vehicle before Jackson could say a thing. Jackson stared at him for a second, but Wren stared straight ahead and made no move to make eye contact. Ok. That¡¯s fine. He slammed the door shut and stepped away. Wren stepped so he was directly behind Jackson¡¯s right shoulder. Jackson ignored the prickling of fear and led the way to the main house. They walked through the flower garden toward a side door. Wren stayed in his place behind Jackson, just barely within Jackson¡¯s peripheral vision. As far as he could tell, Wren didn¡¯t look around at the new place. He didn¡¯t react at all to the massive gardens surrounding them. It would be fine. He¡¯d calm down and adjust soon enough. The wolf had only ever had one owner. It must be intimidating going into a new place after 24 years of the old routine. The kitchen was bustling as Jackson and Wren stepped in. Margaret stood at the stove stirring what smelled like chicken soup. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t just bring a dirty wolf into my kitchen while I¡¯m trying to cook.¡± Jackson gave her a big grin when she looked over. ¡°Sorry, Margaret. I wanted to see if you¡¯d have Kia bring up dinner for Wren and me?¡± She started to smile back, but the smile froze as she looked at Wren. Her head cocked to the side and she breathed in. Her nostrils flared. ¡°Oh, Margaret, this is Wren. Wren, Margaret.¡± The other wolves in the kitchen kept casting curious glances towards them. Margaret gave Wren a soft smile. ¡°Welcome, Wren.¡± She turned back to the pot on the stove. ¡°Kia will be up soon with your food. Go get him a nice bath.¡± Jackson nodded in agreement and made his way through the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, and down a hallway. ¡°All right, so this is my room,¡± Jackson said and heard the first reaction from Wren since he¡¯d said his name. It was just a sharp inhale. Barely a sound, really, but enough that it made Jackson worried. Sunglasses¡¯ parting words rang back in his head and Jackson again wondered what ¡®personal¡¯ meant in relation to this wolf.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°I¡¯ve got the good bathroom and I figured you¡¯d like some privacy,¡± Jackson explained and opened the door. ¡°Plus Kia will be bringing the food to this room. I don¡¯t want her to have to scent us down to find us.¡± Jackson was happy he kept his room fairly neat as they stepped into it. The blinds were wide open, showing his perfect view over the expansive flower garden. His comforter was rumpled on the bed from where he¡¯d been sitting on it before leaving earlier. Wren didn¡¯t look around at all. ¡°You can take off the sunglasses now. Or I can shut the blinds if it¡¯s still too bright.¡± No response. Jackson nodded. ¡°Yep. Ok. Follow me.¡± They stepped through the open bathroom door. ¡°Tub, shower, shampoo, conditioner, soap.¡± He pointed at the various bottles then pulled out two washcloths and a towel. ¡°Do you want to take a bath or shower?¡± No response. Jackson stared at him. Wren stared just part his shoulder. Realization dawned on him. ¡°Do you know how to use a bathtub or shower?¡± Jackson asked. There was no response. ¡°Answer me.¡± ¡°No.¡± One painful sounding word. The chicken soup would be good for him later. Jackson had definitely been too impulsive in this purchase. ¡°Ok. Just¡­ I¡¯ll run you a bath then and we¡¯ll take it from there.¡± Jackson turned his back on the wolf and leaned over the tub. He cranked up the hot water until steam was rising, then tempered it down with some cold. He heard a rustling behind him, but he ignored it. Wren had given him no reason to not trust him so far and it was almost a relief to know Wren had at least a little bit of curiosity in him. Jackson knew the wolves all had sensitive noses so he held back on adding any oils or salts to the water. Once Wren had relaxed, he could choose his own scents, whichever ones wouldn¡¯t irritate his nose. ¡°All right,¡± Jackson said as he turned. ¡°It¡¯s - what?¡± The largest wolf he¡¯d ever seen was sitting in front of him. Jackson kept his face straight as he stared at the sunglasses still perched on the nose, this clearly wasn¡¯t a time to smile. His fur was darker than average and matted beyond belief. The blindfold was stuck and hanging behind his head still. The markings themselves were rather standard. The fur on his back was mostly black, interspersed with some gray and white. It faded to an almost pure gray around his chest and on his sides. The middle of his chest to his stomach looked like it would be white, if it was clean. ¡°The wolves here usually clean themselves as humans,¡± Jackson said. Wren didn¡¯t respond or change back. ¡°All right, well¡­ I guess it¡¯s a good thing I have a large tub. Get in.¡± Wren stood and cautiously stepped into the tub. He froze once his first paw hit the water, then scrambled in the rest of the way. Jackson stepped back in an effort to avoid the water sloshing over the side of the tub. He stared at Wren, who had lowered himself down into the water so the top of his head, sunglasses, and nose were the only things exposed to the air. ¡°I guess I got the temperature right. Do you want to just soak for a while?¡± No response. Jackson held in his sigh of frustration. ¡°Soak for awhile, then turn into a human and scrub your hair with this.¡± He put the shampoo on the side of the tub. ¡°Follow it with this.¡± He put the conditioner next to it. ¡°Put this soap on this washcloth and scrub your body until the dirt is all off. And take the sunglasses off soon.¡± He felt stupid giving step by step instructions for getting clean, but since Wren wouldn¡¯t talk with him he didn¡¯t really have any other choice. ¡°I¡¯m going to get you some clothes to change into. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± He pulled the remote from his pocket and fiddled with it so Wren would be able to move a farther distance and set the remote on the edge of the sink. He left. Wren was quite a bit larger than him so he made his way down to where they kept the uniforms for their wolves. A pair of sweatpants to sleep in and a plain white shirt would be enough for now. They could go shopping later, once Wren had calmed down enough to hold an actual conversation. When he stepped back in his room, he could hear the water sloshing in the bathroom. The wolves they owned all had no sense of modesty, probably since they had a communal bathing area. He wouldn¡¯t hesitate to walk in and drop off clothes to any of the rest. Jackson knocked on the door. ¡°I¡¯m just bringing some clothes in.¡± He opened the door after a beat passed with no response, then froze in the doorway. Wren was human. The sunglasses sat folded on the floor next to the tub. Wren leaned back against the edge of the tub. Thick, corded muscles, previously hidden beneath his shirt lay along the rim. He had his hair slicked back out of his face and shiny with water, though still a tangled mess. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared directly at Jackson. Jackson swallowed hard as he felt his heart trip over itself. Wren slid down a bit lower in the water as Jackson stared, and Jackson ripped his gaze away. He set the folded clothes down on the sink. ¡°Do you need anything else?¡± There was a long beat of silence, then Jackson left the room without looking back. The door shut with a soft ¡®snick.¡¯ He fell down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had definitely and 100% been too impulsive. Enter Kia Jackson was still in that position when his bedroom door opened. Without looking, he reached over and flipped the switch on the small box sitting on his bedside table. ¡°It working?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Kia said. There was a tinkling of metal and glass. ¡°So, how¡¯d it go?¡± Jackson sat up and stared at Kia. She had her back turned to him and was slowly setting out dishes on his table. Her long hair was braided and twisted up into a bun. ¡°Kia, I messed up.¡± She froze with a covered bowl halfway to the table. ¡°What do you mean you messed up?¡± ¡°Hurry up and finish.¡± She did then hopped on the bed with him. ¡°What happened?¡± Her wide eyes were worried. Her lips tugged into a soft frown as he told her everything that had happened. ¡°Jackson, you absolute dumbass. He¡¯s been fighting since he was 8! Of course he¡¯s not going to have the first clue on what he¡¯s supposed to be doing!¡± ¡°Ok, yeah sure¡­ But Kia, that¡¯s not the bad part. He can learn whatever he needs to learn. I¡¯m not worried about that.¡± Kia narrowed her eyes. ¡°What did you do, Jackson?¡± ¡°He¡¯s big,¡± Jackson hissed to Kia. Kia stared at him. Her eyes, a muddy green, were wide and a blush bloomed across her cheeks. ¡°Like¡­ His dick?¡± ¡°No! Or, well maybe? I don¡¯t know! I didn¡¯t try to look!¡± Kia shoved him. He fell back on the bed. ¡°Kia,¡± he whined. ¡°He¡¯s hot. I didn¡¯t pay attention before because I got stuck in that stupid power play. Now I¡¯ll be spending the next year with someone who looks like that right by my side. His muscles, Kia.¡± He sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to say to you right now.¡± ¡°Feel bad for me.¡± ¡°Absolutely not. You did this to yourself.¡± Kia laughed and lay back next to him. Their arms were pressed together from shoulder to elbow. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s just this first year. Play by the rules and I¡¯ll be with you next year.¡± They lay in silence for a beat. ¡°Should you maybe check on him, since he wasn¡¯t even sure what to expect with a bath?¡± ¡°Yeah. Stay here.¡± He groaned as he sat up. He knocked twice on the door and after a moment of no response, he opened it, slipped in, and turned so he was facing away from the tub.. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Silence. ¡°I¡¯m going to turn around now.¡± Silence. He turned around. Wren was sitting on the edge of the empty tub. He had the towel draped across his groin and thighs. Jackson carefully kept his eyes on Wren¡¯s face¡­ Which, looking closer, looked a little off. His hair still looked matted, just wet and matted. The blindfold was attached to the back of his head, apparently too tangled for him to get it out by himself. ¡°Food¡¯s here.¡± He stepped closer, squinting at Wren¡¯s face. It was smudged¡­ Make-up. ¡°Oh. I hadn¡¯t even realized¡­ Hold on.¡± He found his make-up remover wipes in the bottom drawer. ¡°Here.¡± No reaction. Wren stared straight ahead. Jackson hesitated.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°All right. I¡¯m going to wipe your face with this. Stay still.¡± Wren tensed as Jackson reached for him. He kept his touch as light as he could. The make up was tough to get off though. ¡°What the heck is this stuff made of? Hold on.¡± He stepped to the door. ¡°Oh, put the clothes on.¡± He gestured at the ones left for him before and stepped back in the bedroom. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Kia asked. ¡°Do you have any makeup remover? Like that, cream stuff?¡± ¡°Yeah, need it?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± Kia left and came back with a small container. ¡°Just smear it on and wipe it off with a damp cloth.¡± He returned to the bathroom. Wren was thankfully clothed. ¡°All right. Do you want to do this or do you want me to?¡± Silence. Jackson closed his eyes and called upon his patience. ¡°I¡¯m going to rub this all over your face, then wipe it off with a cloth unless you tell me now that you don¡¯t want me to.¡± Silence. Jackson scooped some of the white cream on his fingers. He stepped forward, between Wren¡¯s knees and tilted his head back. Wren growled, low in his chest and Jackson froze. Several long seconds passed and the growl stopped. Jackson touched the cream to Wren¡¯s cheek. Again, the growl filled the bathroom, quieter this time, and Jackson froze. The barest of cream was on his cheek. His finger wasn¡¯t even touching Wren¡¯s skin. ¡°You can do it yourself.¡± No reaction except the growling stopping. Jackson hesitated, then streaked the cream across Wren¡¯s cheek. There was a rough tickle of stubble under his fingers that the make up was hiding completely. Each and every swipe of the make up over his cheeks revealed more. More facial hair, more scars, more bruises. Jackson dampened a washcloth and wiped off the cream. He took extra care around the ugly yellow and green bruising. Jackson swallowed and stepped back once Wren¡¯s face was cleaned. Scars littered his face. The thick layer of makeup had done a stupid good job of hiding everything. He stepped out of Wren¡¯s personal space. Jackson cleared his throat. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s eat.¡± He opened the bathroom door and looked back. Wren hadn¡¯t moved. Jackson sighed. ¡°Follow me.¡± Wren stood and followed. Kia was laying on the bed with his laptop open. She looked up as they walked in. Jackson watched her eyes close as she took a deep breath. Wolves, he shook his head with a fond smile.¡°You¡¯ve landed yourself with a real dumbass,¡± she told Wren. Jackson wanted to hug her when she didn¡¯t so much as glance at the bruising on his cheek. Wren didn¡¯t respond to her either. ¡°Wren, this is Kia. Kia, Wren.¡± Jackson took a seat at the table, Kia sat next to him. Wren stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. ¡°Sit there and eat.¡± Wren obeyed. Jackson ignored Kia staring at him. ¡°Jackson, try not acting like an ass maybe.¡± Jackson saw Wren tense across from him. ¡°He doesn¡¯t really answer questions. So far he¡¯s responded best to direct commands.¡± Kia stared at Wren, tense and eating his soup. She dropped her gaze to her own bowl. ¡°I was born here, and I know I lucked out.¡± She pushed the bowl of rolls closer to Wren. ¡°Take as much as you want. Jackson soundproofs the room when I¡¯m in here so you don¡¯t need to hold back.¡± The silence was even heavier after that. ¡°If dad tries to ask him questions, I¡¯m just going to tell him I forbade Wren from answering. My wolf, my rules, right?¡± She snorted and started tearing a roll into pieces. Wren still hadn¡¯t grabbed for one, Kia reached forward and moved to set one next to his bowl. He growled as her hand approached. Kia¡¯s hand froze and her head tilted back, the growl immediately shut off. There was silence as Kia stared at the ceiling, Jackson stared at Wren, and Wren stared at the table. ¡°All right. We¡¯ve got a lot to deal with. It¡¯ll have to wait until after dinner though. Wren, do not growl again, at least not tonight. I don¡¯t see it happening, but, just in case, don¡¯t speak to my dad when we meet him. Kia, stop.¡± Kia relaxed and set the roll down halfway to Wren. ¡°Growling isn¡¯t allowed here,¡± Kia told Wren and went back to her soup like nothing had happened. Wrens POV Jackson Carmillan of Carmillan Collars. The metal collar around his throat hadn¡¯t felt so tight, so restrictive in a long time. I think I know how the collars work better than you do, the words echoed in Wren¡¯s mind. Wren stayed on edge. He wasn¡¯t going to trigger any anger in Jackson for as long as he could help it. Silence had always been his best friend. He couldn¡¯t say the wrong thing if he didn¡¯t say anything. He didn¡¯t have to guess the right choice if he just waited until the choice was made for him. He knew he stunk. He knew his hair had grown out to a better length but had become unmanageable in the process. The makeup caked on his face itched. He wanted to be clean, but he didn¡¯t want the bath. His old owner was bad enough, a bucket of cold water tossed over him to clean off the blood after a fight and it was called a day, he didn¡¯t want to know how the Carmillan heir treated his wolf. What his idea of a bath would be. Wren¡¯s hair had been kept short under his old owner, unnaturally so. It made his fur thin and any protection he might have had in a fight was lost. Any protection from the cold basement cell was lost. That first step into the garden, surrounded by flowers¡­ Wren never wanted to leave and wanted to hide away from all that space at that same time. It was entirely too short of a walk with his eyes trained directly ahead when all he wanted to do is look around, take in the colors, the smells. Hide in the shadows and hope he was never found. Instead he stepped into a kitchen full of wolves. He tensed as the wolf at the stove scolded Jackson and scented the air. Jackson¡­ apologized. He apologized to the wolf, to Margaret. His confusion only grew. Then the bedroom door. Jackson¡¯s bedroom door. His mind flashed to those nights his previous owner came home drunk, came home angry, or just got horny and wanted to feel powerful. He¡¯d reacted, loud enough that Jackson had noticed and paused, then explained. Took the time to explain to him why they were at his bedroom rather than the cell he would be kept in. It made following him into the bedroom easier, not that he had a choice either way. Then the bathroom, where he tried to keep his silence, but was commanded to answer. At least that answer was easy. He had no idea how to work the tub or shower. Even when he was young and with his mother and siblings, they heated water gathered at the river for baths. It was nothing like what was here, in front of him. It was nothing like the bucket of cold water. Jackson turned around and Wren didn¡¯t waste any time. He wouldn¡¯t suffer the indignity of having a young human wash his body as in his unshifted form. He shed the clothes and shifted, remembering just a moment too late that he hadn¡¯t taken off the sunglasses. If he shook them off he could break them, and that was a surefire way for this moment of peace, of relative painlessness, to come to an end. So he sat there, well aware that he looked like an idiot, until Jackson turned back around. ¡°The wolves here usually clean themselves as humans.¡± Wren couldn¡¯t figure it out. No human ever referred to a wolf as human, even when their form was an almost identical copy to a humans. ¡°Get in.¡± He¡¯d braced himself for the cold. Braced himself, even though he could see the steam. Braced himself for a cruel trick. Then his paw touched the water and warmth, blessed warmth. Not the unbearable heat of the sun on a too-hot day at that market place. Not the stinging burn of a lit cigarette being pushed against him. A comforting, embracing warmth that surrounded him and comforted the sore bones, muscles, aches he carried. He sank down into the water, for a single, blessed moment, he forgot he was being watched. Forgot he was trapped in a neverending hell. For one, peaceful moment, he was in the wooden tub, and his mother was on her way back with another pail of heated water. Jackson clearly thought he was completely stupid. It was fair enough. He listened to the expectations Jackson had¡­ Then Jackson left. Wren waited for his steps to disappear and shifted back into human. He carefully folded up Jackson¡¯s sunglasses and set them outside of the tub, then sunk under the warm water. His shoulders hurt more so than the healing marks that he knew criss crossed his back. He¡¯d lost count of the days he wore those cuffs. Lost count of the days with the blindfold cutting off his vision. Long enough for his hair to grow and mat around the headband. His lungs ached and he came up for air. He could hear footsteps in the room outside the bathroom. He pushed his hair back, as much as he could with the tangles refusing to loosen then let his arms rest along the tub. ¡°I¡¯m just bringing some clothes in.¡± Wren froze where he was, arms out in the open and so exposed. He stared at the door and forced himself to relax. Stop his aching shoulders from tensing again. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. The door opened. Jackson stepped in. They made eye contact. Wren listened to Jackson¡¯s heart speed up, speed up to a pace that matched his own. When several long moments passed with Jackson staring at him, he couldn¡¯t keep up the facade of feeling comfortable. He started to sink lower into the water and Jackson jolted like he¡¯d been shocked. ¡°Do you need anything else?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Jackson left. Left without a single glance back at him. Wren was too uncomfortable to enjoy the warm water anymore. He grabbed the first bottle. The shampoo was scented. He wrinkled his nose in preparation for too much, too chemical, too artificial¡­ but to his surprise it was lightly fragranced with lavender. It wasn¡¯t harsh on his nose at all. He found himself breathing in deep as he did his best to scrub his hair clean. The blindfold wouldn¡¯t come out. Not when he rinsed the shampoo out. Not when he scrubbed and rinsed the conditioner. His hair was wound tight around the material. Wren wasn¡¯t going to be able to get it out alone. He wasn¡¯t quite sure when the last time he¡¯d felt so clean had been. The washcloth was thick and soft. The soap had the same soft lavender smell as the shampoo. The only thing he couldn¡¯t do was get the thick makeup off. It didn¡¯t matter how much he scrubbed at his face, the stuff acted like it had fused with his skin. He gave up. If Jackson was mad that he didn¡¯t get all the filth off, then he was mad. There was nothing more Wren could do about it. The tub drained and left a layer of grime. Wren wrinkled his nose at the dirt. He wiped it up with the washcloth, not daring to leave it dirty. He dried off, perched on the side of the tub, and waited. The clothes were folded on the sink where Jackson had left them, but Wren didn¡¯t want to dress only to undress and shift moments later¡­ plus a part of him didn¡¯t really believe he was going to be able to put those clothes on and leave this room, just like that. Not after he was given so much. He was going to be expected to give something back. The room on the other side of the door was suspiciously silent. The most he could hear was a very faint humming, and that was only when he really focused. The complete lack of noise from the room is why he was so startled when two knocks sounded on the door and Jackson stepped into the bathroom. Jackson kept his back turned to him. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Jackson asked. He didn¡¯t know what the correct answer was, so Wren stayed quiet. ¡°I¡¯m going to turn around now.¡± Jackson turned. Wren kept his gaze steady and straight ahead as he waited for the punishment. His face was still dirty. The blindfold was still attached. Jackson was quiet as he stared hard enough that Wren wanted to shrink in on himself. ¡°Food¡¯s here.¡± Jackson¡¯s voice seemed too loud in the still bathroom. He stepped closer. Wren didn¡¯t move. He couldn¡¯t. This is exactly what he¡¯d thought would happen. He prepared himself to be touched, turned around, taken over, even as revulsion swirled in his stomach. ¡°Oh. I hadn¡¯t even realized¡­ Hold on.¡± Jackson turned to dig through the cabinet. Wren focused on his breathing. In and out. Slow. Steady. He couldn¡¯t change what was about to happen, let it happen. Then breathe and get over it. ¡°Here.¡± Jackson held out a thick wipe that smelled of chemicals. Wren was too worked up to reach out for it, not that he¡¯d know what to do with it anyway. Jackson hesitated. ¡°All right. I¡¯m going to wipe your face with this. Stay still.¡± Wren tensed as Jackson reached for him. Jackson was gentle, though, as he ran the wipe along his jawline. The pressure gradually increased. Wren carefully didn¡¯t look up at him. Instead, he listened to Jackson¡¯s steady heartbeat. Jackson jerked his hand back. ¡°What the heck is this stuff made of? Hold on.¡± He stepped to the door. ¡°Oh, put the clothes on.¡± He gestured at the clothes Wren hadn¡¯t wanted to touch then stepped out the door. The silence was immediate. Jackson¡¯s heartbeat vanished with the door shut. Not long after, a different, slower heartbeat appeared and walked away from them. Wren gave up trying to hear into the silence and slipped the sweatpants on. His shoulders hurt as he pulled on the shirt, but the fabric was much softer than the clothes the market owner had made him wear. He glanced at the door, then plucked up a section to run his fingers over it. He dropped it before Jackson could step in and see that he liked the fabric and take it from him. He stretched a bit and rolled his shoulders, but he froze when he heard the slow heartbeat growing closer. The heartbeat vanished into thin air. Wren took a step toward the bathroom door. His heart ticked over into overdrive as he realized what he was about to do. Instead he returned to sitting on the edge of the tub. Jackson didn¡¯t know he thought about opening the door. Jackson couldn¡¯t. Wren was not going to get in trouble for those thoughts. He took a deep, settling breath. Jackson opened the door and shut it behind him. Wren didn¡¯t jump, but it was a close thing. Jackson held a small white container in his hands. Wren swallowed down his nervousness. ¡°All right. Do you want to do this or do you want me to?¡± Do this? Do what? He sat, frozen. Jackson wasn¡¯t giving him the slightest indication on what the right answer was, on what he wanted Wren to do. Jackson¡¯s eyes closed and Wren¡¯s heart sank into his stomach. He¡¯d fucked up. Jackson was fed up with him. ¡°I¡¯m going to rub this all over your face, then wipe it off with a cloth unless you tell me now that you don¡¯t want me to.¡± Did that mean Jackson wanted him to tell him he didn¡¯t want Jackson to do it? Before his spinning mind could figure anything out, Jackson had some white cream scooped on his fingers. He stepped forward, between Wren¡¯s knees and one hand pushed his head back. Instincts took over. Wren growled, low in his chest, warning off anyone who thought he was submitting and Jackson froze. Several long seconds passed before he was able to stop growling. Then Jackson moved his hand and Wren was sure pain was incoming. His head was still tilted back, his neck on full display. It was too much. Too fast. Too different. He growled as the first bit of cream touched his skin. Jackson stilled. ¡°You can do it yourself.¡± His voice was soft. It sounded like an offer, like it was really up to Wren how the next moments went. Wren stopped growling. Whether he meant it or not, growling wasn¡¯t going to help anything. It wasn¡¯t bad. The cream didn¡¯t hurt. It was unscented and gentle on his sensitive nose. The only times Wren fought off another growl, was when Jackson¡¯s fingers ran along his jawline and dipped beneath his chin. He managed to hold back any more sounds, but it was a close call. Jackson dampened a washcloth and wiped off the cream. His touch was gentle against Wren¡¯s bruised skin. Wren¡¯s mind was spinning. Jackson cleared his throat. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s eat.¡± He opened the bathroom door and looked back. Wren didn¡¯t move. It felt like a trick. He was going to stand and follow and Jackson would laugh. He¡¯d withhold dinner. Wren wouldn¡¯t be allowed to eat, all because he¡¯d assumed he was supposed to follow Jackson when he wasn¡¯t. His spiraling thoughts were cut off when Jackson sighed. ¡°Follow me.¡± Wren stood and followed. Easy, clear instructions. That was what he wanted. Nothing else made sense. Tangles Kia stacked their empty bowls back on the cart then migrated to the bed and the open laptop. Jackson dug through his bathroom drawers for a comb. It¡¯d been awhile since his hair had been long enough to require a comb to tame it, but he knew he had one hidden somewhere. Wren sat in the wooden chair and didn¡¯t move. Jackson wondered how his hair was taken care of before, though judging from the scars covering his face and the visible area of his arms, he¡¯d take a guess that it wasn¡¯t taken care of at all. Finding the comb, Jackson paused with a good bit of space between him and Wren. ¡°Someone needs to comb the mats out of your hair. It¡¯s your choice who does it; you, me, or Kia.¡± Wren didn¡¯t say anything, but his shoulders tensed and his hands clenched into fists. ¡°Choices might be difficult,¡± Kia spoke from where she was laying on the bed with his laptop open on her stomach. ¡°I mean 24 years in the fights, and according to this article I¡¯m reading, fighting wolves don¡¯t really live happy lives where they might be allowed to make choices.¡± Articles. Why hadn¡¯t he done even a basic search on how to deal with potentially traumatized wolves? ¡°You¡¯re a fucking genius. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do without you.¡± Kia rolled her eyes at his words. At least he now had a game plan for tonight after he talked with his dad. There has to be some sort of advice out there for his situation. ¡°All right. I¡¯m going to comb the mats out of your hair. Don¡¯t growl at me. If you need a break, say ¡®I need a break,¡¯ and we¡¯ll stop for a bit.¡± Wren didn¡¯t respond, but his hands unclenched, even as his shoulders stayed tense. That was good enough for Jackson. Jackson stepped behind him and stared at the mess. ¡°Start at the bottom,¡± Kia said. ¡°I think Sue-sue has some detangler stuff that her mom uses on her. I can go see?¡± ¡°Yes, please.¡± Kia pushed the laptop aside but kept it open on the internet page she¡¯d pulled up. Jackson carefully held the first bit of hair between his fingers and tried to force the comb through. It didn¡¯t work. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s cut the mask and see if we can just work that out first.¡± He grabbed some scissors from his desk, but froze before reaching for the blindfold. ¡°I have scissors. I¡¯m just cutting the blindfold and then I¡¯ll set them down.¡± No response. Jackson cut the blindfold as close to Wren¡¯s hair as he could without cutting the hair itself. It took a bit of tugging, and a bit of finger picking at the knots, but he was able to get the blindfold worked free. The hair was still matted and a disaster, but it looked better without the wet fabric hanging from in.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Kia returned as Jackson chucked the mask toward the trash can. He missed. She rolled her eyes and tossed it in herself. ¡°Got the spray. You just spray it on the knots. Not that hard.¡± Jackson looked at the bottle. Unscented detangler spray. He shrugged and sprayed at the first spot he¡¯d tried to comb. Wren jerked, then froze. ¡°Whoops. I¡¯m going to spray this a couple more times on this spot and see if it helps.¡± He sprayed it three more times then set the bottle down. Wren was almost shaking, he was so tense. ¡°We could just cut your hair?¡± ¡°No,¡± Kia spoke from where she was lounging on the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll comb it out if you don¡¯t want to.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯ve got it. This is just¡­ really bad.¡± The spray helped. It took entirely too long to get even a small section combed out, but he managed to get it done. ¡°Hey, there¡¯s a new piece of legislation being discussed on werewolf freedom,¡± Kia said. Jackson didn¡¯t want to have to use the detangler again, but the spray had helped. ¡°I have to spray down more of your hair. I¡¯ll be quick.¡± Wren¡¯s only response was to tense back up. ¡°Doubt it¡¯ll pass. Not while we have fuck-face as president-extraodinaire.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Kia sighed. Wren¡¯s hair was surprisingly soft under hand as he worked the tangles out. It hung in loose curls down to his shoulders. ¡°Have an extra hair tie?¡± Kia tossed the one around her wrist at him without looking up. It fell short. Jackson ran his fingers though Wren¡¯s hair. The silky strands were damp from the washing and the spray. He ignored the way Wren jerked forward when his fingers brushed against his scalp and separated it into three pieces. It was a short braid, but it would keep the hair nicer than just leaving it down. ¡°What do you think?¡± Jackson asked the room at large. Wren didn¡¯t respond. Kia looked up from the computer. ¡°Turn around,¡± she said to Wren. Wren stood and turned. Jackson stepped back as Wren towered over him. His heart skipped in his chest and Kia¡¯s eyes shot to him. He stared back at her. ¡°It looks good. Good job.¡± ¡°You can sit back down,¡± Jackson said. Wren didn¡¯t move. Kia frowned and exchanged a tense look with Jackson. Jackson shrugged. ¡°When¡¯re you going to see your dad?¡± ¡°Soon. I want his hair to dry a little more.¡± Jackson glanced at Wren. ¡°Sit down.¡± Wren sat down on the floor, exactly where he¡¯d been standing. Jackson sighed and let him stay there. ¡°Come look at this,¡± Kia said and patted the bed next to her. Jackson climbed into the bed next to her. She had the legislation pulled up. Jackson skimmed it, but there was no chance of it passing. No chance. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on it,¡± he promised her. If it would just pass then the next year wouldn¡¯t matter. Kia was his best friend. He wouldn¡¯t let his dad change that. He wouldn¡¯t let his dad take away all the best parts of her. He glanced over at her. She was leaning in close to the laptop, eyes skimming down the lines quickly. ¡°Your mom would be so excited for you,¡± Kia said out of nowhere. ¡°Mom would have made sure you were the one coming with me.¡± It was hard not to be bitter. His dad worked best under contracts, agreements, favors¡­ Power. It was always and forever just a power play when it came to him, and Jackson turning 18 took away a big part of the power his dad held before. With the law no longer keeping him under his dad¡¯s control, his dad turned to Kia. The only person, or wolf, he would willingly stay under his dad¡¯s control for. Lavender Tea and Scones Jackson flipped the switch on the bedside box as they left the room. ¡°Come back in an hour with some lavender tea,¡± Jackson spoke clearly as soon as they stepped out into the hallway. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Kia blew him a kiss and laughed as she left. ¡°Follow me.¡± Barely in his peripheral, Wren kept pace with him. Down the hallway, up another staircase. They stopped in front of a set of intricately carved double oak doors. Jackson ran a finger over the nose of a carving of a wolf and steeled himself before knocking. ¡°Come in.¡± Jackson straightened up and opened the door. ¡°Dad.¡± His dad was sitting behind his desk, bent over some paperwork. His glasses rested on the end of his nose. His dark hair was starting to gray around the edges. A shadow of stubble told Jackson enough about what kind of day he¡¯d had, and he straightened his spine further. With a heavy sigh, his dad took off his glasses and set them on top of the papers he¡¯d been reading. He covered his eyes with his hand as he rubbed his temple. ¡°You have single-handedly caused every single one of these gray hairs. Care to explain to me why I received two phone calls this evening? One from a very happy market owner and one from a very pissed off Louis Warrick.¡± Louis Warrick. He recognized the name, but he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever seen the man before earlier at the auction. ¡°Yep -¡± His dad looked up with a glare. ¡°Yes,¡± Jackson corrected himself. ¡°I asked about the four wolves in the unmarked cage and what they were. The response I received was that I wouldn¡¯t be able to afford them and I should keep looking.¡± ¡°So naturally you had to purchase one of them.¡± ¡°No, sir. I was just proving a point by pulling up their profiles. I saw wolf C36M657 had a second speciality in personal and was undefeated after 24 years of fighting.¡± His dad nodded, none of this information was new to him. ¡°Your instructions were to ¡®buy a wolf worthy of being beside me.¡¯ There were no other wolves there who could have held a candle to what this one has.¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a very impressive record, but how do you think the college is going to like having a 32 year old wolf in their dorms?¡± ¡°There are no age requirements. The only requirement was gender and a specialty in personal.¡± Jackson had scanned those requirements more times than he could count in hopes of finding a loophole. ¡°Jackson,¡± his dad sighed. ¡°You spent 10 million dollars to prove a point to an ally of ours.¡± An ally of his dads. Any ally of his dad was an enemy to him. ¡°You probably could have donated half of that to the school and they would have looked the other way when I brought Kia to the dorms.¡± His dad¡¯s glare intensified, but Jackson was mostly immune to it after 18 years of being the receiving end of it. ¡°If you expect me to honor our agreement, then you better stop these fucking games.¡± That wiped the smile off his face. ¡°It didn¡¯t start as a game. I was just looking for one I wouldn¡¯t mind having with me, then everything happened and at that point I couldn¡¯t change my mind without looking weak, which I knew you wouldn¡¯t want me doing. I¡¯ll keep to the spirit of the agreement from here on.¡± ¡°See that you do.¡± His dad leaned back. His gaze focused over Jackson¡¯s shoulder on Wren.. ¡°We could run him in a couple fights and get some of that money back. I heard he always drew a big crowd.¡± ¡°No.¡± Jackson spoke too soon. The words hadn¡¯t even finished leaving his dad¡¯s mouth. His dad raised his eyebrows at him. ¡°Mom would never forgive us.¡± ¡°Your mom is dead. Whether or not she approves is no longer something we worry about.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. No. It¡¯s no longer something his dad worried about. Jackson worried about it all the time. ¡°Regardless, he¡¯s my wolf and he won¡¯t be in any fights.¡± His dad hummed and reached for his glasses. ¡°You¡¯ll be leaving in four days. Don¡¯t forget to program his collar to your bracelet. I hope you don¡¯t mind, but I called the college and made sure your living arrangements would be, ah, up to our standards.¡± His heart sank. Shit. ¡°Of course. Thanks- Thank you, dad. It¡¯s getting late, will you be finishing work soon?¡± ¡°Soon enough. Go on.¡± Jackson gave him a smile and turned to leave. They went back to his room. Jackson fell onto his bed and stared at Wren standing still in the middle of the room. ¡°What do you want to do?¡± Jackson asked. No response. ¡°Just, pick something. Make a choice. Decide. Do you want to sit? Do you want to stand? Do you want to read a book? Get on my computer? Go outside?¡± Jackson stopped. Wren hadn¡¯t tensed, exactly. It wasn¡¯t even much of a reaction. Jackson could have imagined it completely. He hesitated, then sat up. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s go back outside.¡± There was no reaction. No response, but Jackson thought he¡¯d guessed right. ¡°Follow me.¡± Down hallways and stairs and a quick stop in the kitchen. Margaret was alone in large room, kneading some dough. ¡°Margaret, have you see Kia?¡± ¡°Last I saw she was stealing Sue-sue¡¯s detangling spray.¡± Margaret looked up from the dough she was working. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you look much better!¡± She smiled at Wren. Jackson turned, ready to tell Wren to say thank you or something¡­ the words stalled in his throat. A dusty pink filled his cheeks. Jackson snapped his mouth shut and turned around. ¡°We¡¯re heading out to the gazebo. Can you have Kia bring our tea out there?¡± ¡°Of course, dear. Scones?¡± ¡°Cookies?¡± Margaret huffed and shook her head. ¡°Between you and Kia¡­ I suppose, since you¡¯re going away to your fancy college soon, that I can let you indulge one more time.¡± ¡°Thanks Margaret.¡± She waved him away. Jackson left and continued out the back door. The sun was setting. A few clouds dotted the horizon, the undersides gilded orange. ¡°This way,¡± Jackson said to Wren. He led them through the flowers and down a brick walkway. The gazebo was covered in crawling ivy. Purple clematis grew along the bottom half. Jackson sat down inside and told Wren to do the same. A couple bees buzzed about, lazy in the evening light. A breeze knocked out the heat of the day. Jackson looked out over the small pond in the distance. He wanted to give Wren his privacy, let him look around and take deep breaths or do what he wanted to do. It wasn¡¯t long until a rattling sound drew his attention. Kia was coming down the gentle slope with a loaded cart. Jackson snorted. ¡°I think Margaret came through for us.¡± Kia smiled at them as she set up two small folding tables. She lit a tea candle and placed in the teapot holder. The cast iron teapot was set on top. The other table she filled with plates of scones and cookies. ¡°I told Margaret it¡¯d just be us three, but gave enough food to feed the troops.¡± Jackson chuckled and leaned forward to pour the tea. ¡°Do you like tea?¡± Jackson asked Wren. There was no response. Jackson filled a cup for him anyway. ¡°It¡¯s lavender chamomile.¡± It¡¯s a good soothing tea. Natural calming agents, for those who believe that scents and tastes could calm someone¡¯s nerves, and the chamomile would hopefully help his throat. Though the rough sound of his voice was probably from disuse as opposed to pain. ¡°Here, drink this and eat as much of this as you want.¡± Kia settled down next to Jackson. Jackson handed her a cup. They sat in a comfortable silence. It wasn¡¯t as easy to talk when they weren¡¯t safely behind the sound barrier of his room. Wren hadn¡¯t touched a single thing to eat, just slowly sipped on his hot tea. Kia leaned forward. ¡°Eat that one. Jackson prefers the chocolate chip, but Margaret¡¯s honey lemon scones are the best.¡± Wren didn¡¯t move to touch it, but his gaze did dart up for a fraction of second. A single fraction that he made eye contact with Jackson. ¡°Eat it,¡± Jackson muttered. He hated commanding Wren to do it. Forcing Wren to drink the tea or eat the scone, but Wren wouldn¡¯t do what he wanted to do so Jackson was forced to guess. Wren picked up the smallest scone on the plate. He ate slowly and cautiously. Each bite ensured no crumbs fell. When he was finished, he lifted his tea and took another sip. ¡°Do you like the tea? The scone? Do you want a cookie too?¡± Jackson shifted in his seat. Kia shoved an elbow into his side. He grunted. Wren glanced at them again, then quickly averted his gaze. Jackson let out a slow breath. ¡°Eat one of each then tell me your favorite.¡± Wren obeyed. After he finished the last bite, he cleared his throat. ¡°The first one.¡± ¡°Score! Told ya, Jackson.¡± Jackson rolled his eyes at Kia¡¯s response, then noticed Wren¡¯s breathing was doing that careful deep breath thing he¡¯d done before. He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Do you like the tea? Answer.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Wren sipped it again. ¡°There is no wrong answer. If you don¡¯t like, then I don¡¯t care. We can get you something else.¡± There. His breathing shallowed for two breaths. Jackson grabbed a cookie and leaned back. He¡¯d pressured Wren enough. They¡¯d figure out how to work together eventually. It didn¡¯t need to happen the very first day. The evening cooled as the sun slowly disappeared. Kia flipped on the soft lights in the gazebo and they watched the lightning bugs flash their colors across the yard. Jackson finished his tea and sighed. At the very least, it was a wonderful end to the day. In the Gazebo - Wrens POV Wren almost cowered. The garden was so big. Flowers as far as he could see with small trails through them, some brick, some dirt. Every breath brought more information to him. Lavender, honeysuckle, lilies¡­ Fresh, overturned soil. The pine trees in the distance. The sky was so high above. There were no walls to hide in. Nothing. Just space, and room¡­ He focused on Jackson. Followed Jackson in the right position. Let his entire world shrink down to just Jackson. His panic diminished once they stepped into the gazebo. It was a small space. Enclosed. Safe. He loved being outside. He just needed a smaller amount of outside. But¡­ Feeling that breeze. Listening to the leaves of the vines rustling. Slowly, his heart rate returned to normal and he risked looking up at Jackson. Jackson was completely turned away from him. Wren followed his line sight to see a little pond in the not too far distance. It¡¯s surface was highlighted orange from the setting sun. With careful glances, he tried to take in the rest of the area. There were so many flowers. So many colors. He couldn¡¯t imagine the amount of work that went into keeping them all looking so nice. The wind rustled the flowers, pushing them down and swaying them back up and Wren let go of some of the tension in his shoulders. It was nice out here. That feeling wasn¡¯t familiar with him, the way he felt almost settled. Almost¡­ at peace. As that thought entered his mind, a rattling caught his attention. Every bit of peace he¡¯d thought he¡¯d found fled. Jackson turned back around and Kia entered their gazebo. His mouth filled with saliva as she laid out the various snacks. ¡°Do you like tea?¡± Yes. Wren wanted nothing more than a cup of that tea. It smelled like what his mom used to drink in the evenings before bed and his heart ached at the memory¡­ but if he said yes, if he said he liked it and wanted it¡­ He kept his mouth shut. Jackson would either give it to him or not. ¡°Here, drink this and eat as much of this as you want.¡± Wren took the cup from Jackson, carefully so as not to touch him and anger him. The first touch of the liquid on his tongue was heaven. The taste wasn¡¯t quite the same as what his mom made, but the scent was close enough. He never took more than a small sip at a time. He didn¡¯t want Jackson to think he liked it too much. He didn¡¯t want it taken away.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Kia moved forward suddenly and pointed at the pile of pastries. ¡°Eat that one. Jackson prefers the chocolate chip, but Margaret¡¯s honey lemon scones are the best.¡± They smelled delicious, but he didn¡¯t dare. A glance at Jackson didn¡¯t give him any indication on if he should obey the other wolf or not, so he stayed still. ¡°Eat it.¡± Jackson didn¡¯t sound happy about giving the command, but a command was a command. Wren chose the smallest one, the one least likely to make him mad for wasting the good food on a wolf. And god¡­ The scone crumbled in his mouth in a perfect mix of butter, honey, and lemon. Just sweet enough, tart enough. It was gone too soon, even though he¡¯d tried to make it last. ¡°Do you like the tea? The scone? Do you want a cookie too?¡± Wren was frozen in indecision. Yes. To all of it. If he said yes, it was just giving Jackson more power over him. The ability to take away something that he knows Wren likes. Wren heard a grunt and glanced up in time to see Kia removing her elbow from Jackson¡¯s side. Jackson¡¯s let out a slow breath. ¡°Eat one of each then tell me your favorite.¡± The choice was taken out of Wren¡¯s hands. He ate one of each. The chocolate chip cookies were soft, but a little too sweet. There were a little too many chips in them. The peach filled was again, a little too sweet when compared with the honey lemon. Not that they weren¡¯t all delicious. There was more flavor in each of those than in any meal he¡¯d had since he was 8 years old. The sweetness was just overwhelming to what he was used to. Now he was supposed to tell Jackson his favorite. His heart ticked up and he cleared his throat to give himself just an extra second. ¡°The first one,¡± he forced the words out. Kia said something in an excited voice, but Wren didn¡¯t pay attention to the words. His heart was racing. The world felt too big again, even in the enclosed gazebo. The space was pressing down on him. He carefully controlled his breathing, the same way he would before each fight. Slow breaths to settle his mind. Slow, even breaths. ¡°Do you like the tea? Answer.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He didn¡¯t allow himself time to think. He answered and took another drink of the tea, which, remarkably, did settle him just a smidge. ¡°There is no wrong answer. If you don¡¯t like it, then I don¡¯t care. We can get you something else.¡± God, did he have to answer? Jackson didn¡¯t tell him to say anything. He liked the tea! It was good and¡­ and Jackson was leaning forward. Leaning into his space. He forced his breathing back to slow, deep, and even and took another sip of his tea. The cup was nearing empty now. He wanted more. Jackson grabbed a cookie and sat back again. The evening passed in relative silence. Crickets started chirping and fireflies danced above the flower gardens. The distinctive sound of a bob-white called in the distance. It was the closest to nature Wren had been since he was 8. He stopped worrying about Jackson and Kia and any future punishment he might get. He let himself look, and breath, and be at peace. For just this moment, he would let himself be at peace.