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Epilogue - 2
Six months of therapy and rehab and sympathetic looks and Jackson was sick of it. He was tired of living in the hotel. He was tired of nonstop people. Nonstop sound. Nonstop everything. For a moment, he considered asking Wren if Wren would want to move in with Grandma Rose and Grandpa Frank. Then he realized what they could do. What they had the means to do.
Wren stepped into their room. He was sweaty from the run with Zain. His dark hair stuck to the back of his neck despite the ponytail’s effort to keep it off. Jackson pushed his laptop to the side and rose up on his knees.
Wren leaned forward for a kiss and Jackson pulled him in closer with his arm around Wren’s neck. Wren chuckled and gently disengaged. “What’s going on?”
Jackson fell back and reached for his laptop again. He avoided eye contact as he pulled up the screen he had minimized. “I was just thinking that maybe it’s time we get a house? Just for the two of
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Nine months since he’d lost his arm and he and Wren were homeowners. Jackson laughed as he caught sight of the white flakes swirling in the wind outside the kitchen window. He opened the cabinet doors in search of the cocoa. Wren was starting a fire in the fireplace. The first snow of the year was later than normal and nothing more than barely there flurries. “Wren,” Jackson called from the kitchen.“Yeah?”“It’s snowing.” Jackson found the container. He braced it between the counter and his hip and used his hand to pry off the top. He mixed the chocolate into the hot milk, squeezed the excess out of Wren’s tea bag, placed both cups on his tray and carefully carried it into the living room. “Our first kiss was in the snow.”The fire was just starting to catch on the logs. Wren settled on the couch next to him and reached for his steaming mug on the coffee table. He tossed his other arm across Jack
The Love of a Werewolf Epilogue - 4 (The End)
Jackson dug their big knife out of the drawer. He crushed and minced the garlic and scraped it to the side of the cutting board. “Wren?”“Yeah?”“Check the chicken.”There was a rattle behind him. Jackson turned to the carrots and started peeling them. The peeler was apparently a little loose and cocked the side after just two swipes. “Chicken’s good. Want me to adjust that?”“Nah, I got it.” Jackson straightened the peeler clamped on the edge of the counter. He tightened the grip and switched back to peeling the carrots. “Has anyone texted yet?”“Kia and Belle said they might be a little late. Otherwise, no.”Jackson glanced over. Wren was leaning his hip against the counter. His hair was loose around his shoulders. The sun beamed through their kitchen window and lit him in a warm light. Jackson set the half-peeled carrot down and stepped forward.
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 betw
The Love of a Werewolf 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 p
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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…” Jack
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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
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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
The Love of a Werewolf Wren's 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
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