Dawn Reclaimed

Claire tried to stand. But, her knees buckled and she fell to the white rock with a hard thud. Her eyes never left the wolf...Grant. She had to keep reminding herself that this was Grant, not a wolf. She'd seen pictures of wolves. She'd taken a trip to the wolf preserve and watched them in their natural habitat, from a safe distance. Grant...the wolf was less than six feet away from her, towering over her with his massive body. Her mind buzzed with confusion. Close to short circuiting in disbelief at what she'd witnessed. Grant was a wolf. The wolf was Grant. How was that possible?

She rolled up onto her knees and sat on the backs of her calves. The rock bit into her shins. But, she was oblivious to everything around her, except for the wolf and his golden stare. This was the secret he couldn't tell. The one she wished she didn't know. Tears rolled down her cheeks and they were not happy tears. She was terrified, confused, and she didn't understand. She wasn't sure she could even try.

The wolf sniffed the air. His female...the air was filled with her scent. He glanced at Nash and huffed in satisfaction that the man was far enough away from his female. Claire...his human supplied her name. Names didn't matter to the wolf. He knew who she was...what she was. She was their mate. The breeze was saturated with the tang of human fear. No scent of danger tripped his keen senses. This was Pack. This was home. Puzzled by his female's reaction, he dipped his head and inched closer.

The wolf was close enough to reach out and touch. He...Grant was beautiful. His fur was a soft chocolate brown color with hints of cream on the tips of his ears, his forelegs, his tail, and his muzzle. The curious part of Claire's nature wanted to stroke the wolf's fur. To see how the lush pelt felt beneath her fingertips. But, she didn't dare. She dropped her hands into her lap as the two of them studied one another. The wolf was curious about her too. Since he had bigger teeth and the advantage of size, she indulged and endured his inspection. She sat perfectly still. Allowing him to run his long nose through her hair, sniffing her. The tip of his cold nose brushed against her forehead. And his hot breath rolled down her cheeks.

The female was pregnant with young. His young... Grant's young...their young. The next generation of Pack blossomed in her womb. The female smelled like honey, spun sugar, and wildflowers, like summertime. Curiously, he snaked his long, damp, tongue across her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her skin on the tip.

Nash breathed a relieved sigh. Claire and the wolf seemed to be getting along as well as could be expected. His body shivered, being so close to Grant during the shift set off a chain reaction, an irrevocable series of physiological responses. He tried to shimmy out of most of his clothes before his wolf sprung free and took over. The wolf shook out its shaggy gray colored coat and lifted his muzzle. He woofed at brother wolf and the woman then bolted for the trees.

Claire's eyes ran a path between the wolf, the woods, and the pile of tattered clothing scattered across the gravel. She guessed she was too shocked to be surprised that Nash was a wolf too. Her common sense, frazzled beyond the point of fear, just accepted what was. Nash was there and then he wasn't. A huge gray, shaggy wolf had taken his place.

Tristen stood at the sink, rinsing out the sticky remnants of Mouse's bowl. He didn't know what else to do to quiet her tears. She was heartbroken over Claire's rejection of her. And she would not stop crying. Video games weren't going to divert her attention in the least. Instead of herding her downstairs to play, he'd routed her straight to the kitchen and gone for the forbidden stash in the freezer. Sugar was a rare treat for everyone. And although the ice cream had been a bit freezer burned. He'd piled it high in the bowl and added a generous helping of chocolate syrup to the top.

It wasn't much of a trade off, ice cream in exchange for love. But, at least she'd stopped crying long enough to devour the ice cream and lick the bowl clean. She sat forlorn and sad at the dining room table. Her shoulders slumped and her head hung low, looking so much like the little girl she was growing out of and less like the woman she was beginning to grow into. Both his brother and he were very protective of their little sister. Sure, they tormented her. That was their job and they took it very seriously. But, at the end of the day they all loved one another.

Tristen didn't blame Claire. How could he? She was an outsider. She couldn't possibly understand. And today, about right now, she was getting a hell of an introduction into their world. He didn't envy her in the least. Sometimes, he wished he didn't know the truth about the world. Vampires and werewolves, they were very real. And the truth of the world could be a very frightening thing.

The air prickled with static electricity and the raw power of shifting wolves. His body tingled and shuddered to the call of the Pack thrumming through him. Pain racked up and down his spine. His vision tunneled to a singular bright spot. His fingers trembled with spasms and the bowl in his hands crashed to the floor shattering into bits of china. His sister's heartbeat thrummed in his ears like the rapid flutter of a humming bird's wings. Bile rose in his throat. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Magic surged through him claiming his body and his soul. His long journey into manhood was finally over. Stumbling out of the kitchen, focusing on that single spot of light, he couldn't stop what was coming. He had to get out of the house. "Mouse, open the door!"

Marianne's head snapped up at the gritty, almost growling sound of her brother's voice. He was shaking violently. Sweat beaded his skin. His teeth were clenched tightly in a grimace of pain. His body contorted and each stumbling, uncoordinated step he took toward the patio doors was sheer agony for him to endure. The force of the magic rolling off of him slammed into her with the gentleness of a wrecking ball. The air was filled with the musk of wolf and the smell of wild. Her brother was changing before her eyes. Becoming something more, something greater than he was five minutes ago. She ran for the patio doors, tipping the dining room chair to the floor in the process. Tristen was on her heels, behind her, scrabbling for the threshold as she slid the wide glass door open. Braver than she ever knew she could be, she reached down and grabbed his belt helping him outside.

Tristen followed the cool gust of air through open patio door and rolled onto the deck. The shift was on him. Marianne was helping, pulling him by his belt out of the path of harm's way, out of reach of the doors, the heavy Adirondack style patio furniture, and the planters lining the wide deck. Away from anything and anyone would be better. But, he wasn't going to make it off the deck before the magic swept him up in its grip. The part of him that was still him scrabbled for control, long enough to get his sister out of the way. "Get back, Mouse!" he rasped. Pain tore at his flesh as his wolf clawed and fought his way through their shared skin. He'd been waiting for this his whole life. But, Mouse was too close and she might get hurt trying to help. Barely holding on long enough for her to get out of the way, he husked one final warning to his little sister. "Go!"

His agonized cries echoed in his ears. There was so much pain. Panting, he tried to ride the waves assaulting his battered body. His fingernails clawing at the deck for hold lengthened into sharp, black nails. His body was being torn apart and reformed. Bones broke and tendons snapped, molding into something other than human. The clothing he had no time to shed shredded to tatters. The last of the boy he had been was ripped away from him and the wolf he was reborn into emerged from the haze of pain to take his place.

Marianne stood behind the closed patio door with her nose pressed firmly against the glass. Staring in rapt fascination at the brother who wasn't quite the brother he'd been five minutes ago. Mixed tears of both joy and sadness, tears for her brother, glittered on the ends of her lashes. Tristen was no longer considered a boy in their world. A man in the form of a honey colored wolf had taken his place. She waited until the wolf was well out of sight before she slid open the glass door and collected the tattered remains of her brother's clothing. She was excited for Tristen. Daniel was next in line to shift. But, someday it would be her turn. And she couldn't wait to grow up and take her place in the pack. Whispering a prayer to the goddess, she prayed for sooner rather than later.

At twelve and three-quarters, it was hard for her to imagine what kind of wolf or woman she'd turn into. Her dad's wolf was a rich brown color, almost but not quite black. Grandpa's fur was gray. Tristen's the color of honey. Grant's was a muddy shade of brown, and Tala's black as night. And Drew's of course, was white as snow. But, there was only one Great White Wolf. Her father never talked about her mother. Marianne didn't know what shade her mom's wolf had been. She didn't know what kind of a woman her mother had been either. Hopefully a good one, at least that's what Marianne believed. When she turned into a wolf, she wanted her fur to be the exact same color of sunshine gold as Claire's hair. As for when she turned into a woman, she wanted to be a mix of the best parts of everyone she'd ever met. A little of Claire, a little of Tala, a little of her mom, and yeah, maybe a little bit of her grandpa and her dad too. But, it was most important. She supposed, to be herself.

Claire lifted a trembling hand, wiping away the damp trail of Grant's...the wolf's tongue from her cheek. As terrified as she was, she couldn't help the bit of a smile curving the corners of her mouth. The wolf plopped down on his massive haunches in front of her and lifted his nose into the air. A soft, haunting, howl echoed from his chest. And then his attention was back on her. Even sitting on his haunches, he was still bigger than she, dipping his head to look her in the eye. In those golden depths, she saw, not a beast of nature, but Grant staring back at her. Gingerly, she stretched her fingers and reached out to touch the wolf.

His brown fur was sleek and warm beneath her fingertips, far softer than it looked. Inching closer, her knees digging into the gravel, she ran her palm over the ruff of his neck and down over his broad, muscular chest. This was Grant. Beneath all this fur was the man she loved. The wolf made a sound, a deep throaty purr of approval as she stroked him. The wolf sat still, allowing her hands to explore. His fur was dense. Up close, she could see more of the hint of cream mixed in with the fawn brown of his pelt. He smelled of musk and of a wild, untamed place. The velvety fur of his tawny muzzle was like silk. And his leathery, black nose was damp and cool to the touch. Tilting his massive head, he playfully licked the tips of her fingers. The gesture, so much more man than wolf made her laugh, and it made her cry. She had no idea what that meant for the both of them. "Grant, are you really in there somewhere?"

The wolf huffed a cloud of warm air out of his wide nostrils. The female's touch was soft and gentle. Exploring, her hands trembled. He lifted his head, exposing his throat to her. Her fingertips roamed over the fur of his ruff to wander over his throat. The scent of fear hung thickly in the air, burning his nose. Her voice, soft like that of a hesitant splash of water over rock, called to his human's soul, drawing him out. Grant paced the boundaries of his mind, demanding control of their shared body. The wolf was happy to relinquish his hold and return to the realm of spirits. The nights of stalking a killer had taken its toll on him. The stink of the city still tainted his sense of smell. He'd earned his rest and he was ready to return to it. He stretched out, resting his muzzle between his paws, watching the woman, their mate as he faded and Grant began to emerge.

Claire's hand stopped mid stroke as the wolf's body began to tremble. The wolf's spindly limbs twitched, his claws scrabbling at the gravel as the change took hold. Claire didn't want to see this. But, she watched, morosely fascinated as the wolf's body reformed and Grant, the Grant she thought she knew, resurfaced. She was crying in earnest by the time the last bit of fur was shed and Grant, his face contorted with pain, opened his eyes. Seeing it for herself was terrifying, but trying to imagine what Grant went though was something beyond her comprehension. Her mind was on overload. Grant was a wolf. Nash was a wolf. All these people in this house were wolves. He'd warned her that his family was a pack of wolves. She'd thought he was being figurative, maybe a bit over dramatic in his description of them. She would have never guessed, if she hadn't witnessed it, how honest he was actually being.

Grant shook off the last wave of pain and forced his eyes to open. The rocks were hard, biting into the tender surface of his belly. The afternoon breeze and the sunshine on his back warmed his skin. He shook his head to clear away the confusion that always came with shifting from one world to the next and focused on Claire. He was cold, aching, and terrified of her reaction. There was so much he needed to explain. He could start with the beginning, the history of his race. But, something told him, it might be better to let her ask the questions and for him simply to answer them as best he could. "Claire? You ok?"

Claire sat on her butt with her knees drawn up tightly beneath her chin. Ok? He wanted to know if she was ok? No, she wasn't. It wasn't everyday you found out the world was even bigger than you thought it was five minutes ago. Grant was the big, bad wolf. But, instead of a sheep's clothing, he wore a very human skin. "I should be asking you that same question." She shifted her glance away, suddenly very interested in the white rock beneath her, as Grant rolled onto his back and grunted, pulling his body off the ground to sit a cautious distance away from her.

"You're naked." It was a stupid thing to say. And she blushed furiously as soon as the words tumbled from her lips. Of course, he was naked. Unlike her though, he didn't seem to be the least bit embarrassed about it. "That was dumb. I'm sorry," she mumbled. His furrier side explained so much. And to think, she'd suspected a cult or some off shoot of the mafia. And she almost wished the explanation were something that simple. Something, she could understand. Werewolves didn't exist in reality, at least her reality, until fifteen minutes ago. And she had no idea what she was supposed to do with that.

"Um... yeah." Grant shivered. The fine hairs on his arms stood up on end as his flesh goose pimpled. His wolf's pelt was far warmer than his human skin. And after a shift, it took his body a while to adjust to the change. "Will you come inside? I'd like the chance to explain," he gestured widely with his hands, "all of this to you." He had to give Claire credit. She hadn't run off screaming in terror. She was holding her own in the sudden foreign territory of her new world. Nudity had never bothered him before. It was just a fact of his life. But, he felt very vulnerable and exposed before her without a stitch of clothing on. He pushed his body off the ground, wincing at the gravel digging into the soles of his feet.

Claire's eyes never left his backside as he picked his way across the gravel to the heap of his abandoned clothes. The acrid scent of her fear was replaced by the lush, sweet smell of lust. His lips curled into a diabolical smile at the thought of it. She didn't want to want him. But, her body had a mind of its own and it wanted, desperately. His cock responded, jutting out erect and proud. He kept his back to her, careful to block her view of his erection. There would be none of that muddying the waters. This was a time for questions and for answers. Secrets had been revealed and Claire literally held his life in her hands. One word to the wrong people and it might be the end of the pack.

Humans feared what they didn't understand. And he had to hope that Claire was better than the rest of her species. Sure, she was afraid. But, she had no reason to fear. His wolf would lay down his life for her. And he was in complete agreement with his wolf. For the first time ever, he knew the true meaning of love. Love was a complicated thing, fragile and breakable, yet, stronger than steel. And it was worth the truth, worth dying for.

He could feel her eyes on his backside as he bent to slide a leg into his jeans. He didn't know what she was thinking or what she thought of him. But, her body made it perfectly apparent where it stood on the subject. He was asking a lot of her and would ask even more of her in the months to come.

Claire scrambled to stand on wobbly legs. Grant looked so normal as if what had just happened was nothing out of the ordinary. He was almost nonchalant about the whole thing. While she stood with knocking knees so helpless, trying desperately to comprehend the meaning of it all. Watching him dress, her body couldn't help but respond to the overwhelming sight of him. Grant's strong, lean muscles coiled and uncoiled as he slid into his jeans and pulled his shirt over his broad shoulders. She chastised her thoughts. What in the hell was she thinking? Drooling over a monster or whatever he was. She should be running away or at best cowering in fear. Not thinking about how good he looked in the skin God gave him.

The truth was, she didn't know what to think or how she felt. He looked completely normal. That if she squeezed her eyes tightly and tried really hard, she could forget everything she'd just witnessed. The bizarreness of a reality she had been thrust into. Like Alice down the rabbit hole, or in this case, Red Riding Hood into the wolf's den. She sniffed her clothes. The musky smell of wolf clung to the fabric. She picked a stray bit of brown fur off her shirt and held it between her fingers. She couldn't forget. She'd never forget.

Grant finished dressing and brushed a stray leaf out of his hair. Claire was on her feet, staring at him with her teal colored eyes as big as saucers. Her arms crossed tightly, protectively, over her chest. "Claire, will you come in?" he asked gently. Taking a few steps toward her, he hesitantly extended his hand, waiting. "Please."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Claire snatched her purse up and slung the strap over her shoulder. She wasn't afraid of Grant. She simply couldn't cope with what he was. Not right now, at least. Grant stepped toward her. She backed away. The car was behind her. She could leave. Just walk away and live her life. Forget him and this insanity he'd dragged her into. But, the life growing inside of her was a part of him...part of this. For the moment, she couldn't think about what that might mean. She shook her head and fumbled with her keys. "I can't."

"Claire, I'm still me." Grant closed the distance between them and reached out to take her hand. Gently, he clasped her fingers and brought them to his chest, to rest over his heart. "In here, I'll always be me. I love you, Claire and that will never change."

Claire stared at her fingertips. The warmth of his chest and his heartbeat thrummed beneath her palm. "Grant, how could I love you in return when I don't know who or what you are?" She slid her hand free from his and backed away. Grant gave her space, dropping his hand to his side in resignation. Damn it, she did love him. Regardless of what he turned into. She loved him. Hurting him so severely broke her heart. But, she had to think beyond her emotions and beyond his. He'd been trying to fit in her world. Seeing his wolf, the part of him he'd hidden from her, made it so painfully evident that he didn't belong there. Here in the woods with his family was where he belonged. Her chin trembled and her eyes stung as she fought back the tears.